


A Suitable Haunting

by Gefionne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Discussion of crime scenes, Ghosts, Kylo is a ghost but he's around so it's not really MCD, M/M, Murder Mystery, brief mentions of sexual assault (no one is assaulted), spectral astral projection sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 02:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: Dr. Armitage Hux is a criminal psychologist studying violent offenders, but he has an unusual talent: he can see the ghosts of the recently departed. When visiting a prison, he is confronted by the spirit of Kylo Ren. Usually spirits are quick to cross over, but somehow Kylo remains, attaching himself to Hux. As Hux helps solve a series of crimes, he and Kylo form a bond despite the barrier of life after death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is our submission for the Kylux Big Bang 2018, written by [gefionne](http://gefionne.tumblr.com/) and illustrated by the amazing [epselion](http://epselion.tumblr.com/). We had a great time working on it together, so we hope you enjoy it, too.

Research for a monograph on the psyche of the violent offender required a great deal more personal interaction than Dr. Armitage Hux had initially calculated. He had expected he would be spending more time with files and court transcripts than at the bolted-down metal table in an interview room at Alderaan State Penitentiary, but here he was for the third week in a row.

The man across from him was forty-three years old, a white male, and dressed in prison orange. “North Carolina Department of Corrections” was stamped on the back of his shirt. Though most of Hux’s interviewees were a bit scruffy, this man had stayed perfectly clean shaven for all three days Hux had been speaking with him about the assaults and murders that had landed him a life sentence in this middle-of-nowhere maximum-security facility. Hux had chosen him out of a number of inmates at the prison for the calculated way he had committed his crimes. He had been utterly meticulous in choosing and abusing his victims, and it had allowed him to elude the police for nearly five years.

With this book—Hux’s ambitious first effort—he was seeking to analyze the criminal mind through the lens of the perfectionist; he’d even go as far as to say there was an artistry to these men’s crimes. Fastidious serial perpetrators had fascinated him since he had finished his PhD, and he was determined to study them in great detail for his initial publication. He’d already seen six other men, though he would likely only write about three, maybe four, in his final manuscript. This current prisoner, Dalton Thrawn, was proving very promising.

“So,” Hux said, tapping the unused eraser of his pencil against a yellow legal pad on the table in front of him, “the fifth victim, Victor Arnez. You took him from his place of work, as you did the others, after a month of observation. You had managed to acquire his schedule and knew he would be coming out of the store at around ten-thirty that night. What happened then?”

Thrawn shifted in his seat, ready to tell his story. He loved talking, which was both a blessing and a curse. Hux had a great deal of notes on him, including hours of digital recordings, but he had propensity to diverge from the topic at hand to discuss the art he had collected before he was incarcerated. He had actually been a well-to-do dealer in Atlanta for many years, which had worked to his advantage as a cover for his more illicit activities.

“Well, he was small man,” Thrawn said, “but he had that beautiful, thick hair. I knew I had to have him from the start. He was like a certain painting I had in my gallery in, what, nineteen-ninety—”

“You said that, yes,” Hux interjected, moving him along. “How did you get him into your car?”

“I asked him for a light.” Thrawn scratched his square chin. “I had learned that he smoked those little flavored cigars. He was wild about them, and I had to wash his hair three times before the stink cleared up.” He sniffed, seemingly disgusted. “Anyway, it was picture-perfect. He got the lighter out, but fumbled and dropped it. I hit him right in the back of the head and it was no problem to get him into the passenger seat.”

Hux flipped to the next page of his notes, where he had recorded some of the details of the victim’s injuries and period of captivity. Thrawn had taken his victims to a kind of panic room in his townhouse in Buckhead and tied them up there for several days, bathing and spoon-feeding them until he was satisfied. Then he would shave their hair for his collection and kill them neatly before dumping their bodies at various sites around the Atlanta area. Three bodies had still been missing at the time of his arrest and it had seemed at that point that he wasn’t going to give up their locations, but his attorneys worked out a deal to keep the death penalty off the table if he did.

“When you got him to the house,” Hux said, “did you carry him straight to the workroom?”

Thrawn opened his mouth speak, but before he could, a klaxon began to sound. They both looked to the door, where two guards were posted. The door opened a split second later, and the two guards came hurrying in.

“We’re going into lockdown, Dr. Hux,” said Officer Daniels, a young man with shaggy blond hair and a uniform that was just a sight too big. “We need to get you to a safe place.”

Hux didn’t like to think that the interview room wasn’t safe, but he got to his feet and, gathering his recorder and notes, agreed to go.

Officer Majewski came to unshackle Thrawn from the ring on the floor that kept him seated, then pulled him up. “Back to your cell,” he said curtly, pushing Thrawn ahead of him.

Hux was ushered into the small guards’ room. In the grainy monitors at a nearby desk, he could see that there was a fight going on in the common area of Cell Block A, where the general population was housed. He had been told that this happened once a month or so, but he hadn’t been present for a mess like it before. Holding his notes to his side stiffly, he watched the cell block guards storm into the common area and start separating the rioters.

When they finally got them on opposite sides of the room, there was one prone form still in the middle of the floor. He was dressed like everyone else—in orange—but there was a red spot spreading across his midsection and pooling on the concrete. The man wasn’t moving.

A crackling voice came over the radio: “We need the doctor to Block A. Doctor to Block A right now!”

The alarm continued to sound for a few more minutes before it was finally shut off. By then Hux had seen the common area cleared and the prison’s doctor and two guards come running in with a stretcher. They got the man onto it, though not without a struggle—he wasn’t small—and carried him out to the infirmary.

“Are you okay, Dr. Hux?” Officer Daniels asked when all was quiet again.

“I am,” Hux replied, and he found that he was. He pitied the man who had been attacked, but he couldn’t do anything to change what had happened. “What now?”

“Well, I guess we could go get Thrawn again, since you weren’t finished—”

The door to the room swung open and the Warden Tarkin stepped inside. “Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” he said. He was a frightfully severe man with cheekbones so high it hollowed his face. He had been warden of the prison for eighteen years and governed with an iron fist. To Hux he said, “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut your interviews short for today, Dr. Hux. We need to maintain order here for the moment. You may return tomorrow.”

“Certainly,” Hux said, despite his disappointment with half a day lost. “I’ll just get my things. If I am permitted to leave the room?”

Tarkin stepped to the side, allowing him to get through the door, if only by turning to the side and bumping his back on the frame as he did. Hux had initially been escorted everywhere he went in the complex, but it appeared that the guards were too busy at this point to bother with him. His briefcase and sport coat were in a locker by the visitor’s entrance, which was on the other side of the main building.

Hux hurried through the corridors, passing unmarked, windowless doors. He was just rounding the corner when he spotted one that was open. At the very same moment, his stomach turned over in a wave of nausea. _Not this. Not now._

The sudden queasiness always came with the spirits. The first time Hux had seen one, he had been six years old and sitting in the hospital in London with his mother during her session of chemotherapy. She had been reading a magazine and letting him play idly with the well-used wooden blocks in the children’s corner of the room. He had built a small tower, but it tumbled to pieces as his stomach clenched with sickness. Just beyond the door stood a young girl only a few years older than him. She was dressed in a hospital gown and had her hair in frizzy braids. She was looking straight at him, sniffling. He wouldn’t have been overly interested in her if she hadn’t been translucent.

“Who are you?” he had asked her, even as he clutched at his roiling belly.

“Nina,” she replied in a squeaky child’s voice. “Who are you?”

“Armitage,” he said. “Are you sick?”

She rubbed her runny nose. “Mummy says it’s called leukemia.”

Hux hadn’t heard that word before, so he said nothing about it. “Are you looking for her? Your mummy?”

Nina had gestured to him and he had snuck out into the hall. She pointed to a woman and man standing a few doors down. The man was holding the woman as she sobbed. “I want her to stop crying,” Nina said, “but she can’t hear me. But you can. Can you tell her not to cry anymore?”

Hux had been told not to talk to strangers, but he thought he might make an exception for someone who was as sad as Nina’s mother. Toddling over, he had tugged on the hem of the woman’s blouse.

“Hello, dear heart,” she said around her tears. “Are you lost?”

Hux had shaken his head. “I’m supposed to tell you that Nina hopes you’ll stop crying soon.”

The woman’s face went white, and the man glowered.

“That’s not a nice joke, young man,” he said. “Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

Hux, upset, turned and hurried away. Nina was still standing by the door to the chemotherapy room.

“Your daddy seems mad,” Hux told her.

“He’s been like that since I got sick,” Nina said. “He yells and Mummy cries.” Her eyes filled. “I just want them to be happy again.”

Hux reached out to take her hand, but his fingers passed right through hers. He didn’t feel anything at all. He and Nina exchanged a look, both of them confused.

“I think something bad happened to me,” Nina said meekly.

At the door where her parents were standing, a nurse wheeled a gurney out of the room, the small body on top of it covered with a white sheet. Hux knew Nina was under it. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he had said to her. “I think you just have to go now.”

Nina looked at the gurney and then back at Hux. Just behind her a pinpoint of light began to form. She faced it. “I think I have to go, too. Bye, Armitage.”

“Bye, Nina,” he had said as she disappeared in a brief flash of light.

A frightened call had come from behind him just after she went away, and Hux turned to find his mother’s nurse calling for him. “There you are, darling,” she said, bustling up to him and taking him by the hand. “Don’t wander away, now.”

Little Armitage had almost forgotten about Nina by the time he saw the second spirit. A boy at his elementary school had had a seizure on the playground and hit his head. Hux had found him by the nurse’s office, standing in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and jean shorts. Armitage hadn’t known his name, so he just gone up to him quickly and said, “Look for a light. When it comes, go with it. Bye.”

The encounters hadn’t stopped there. As Hux grew, he found himself more interested in the comings and goings of the spirits. He had tried to learn as much as he could on the internet, but sources gave contradictory accounts of where the spirits came from and how long they stayed around.

In his own experience, the longest a spirit had been in his presence was two hours. She had been in a car accident across from the deli where Hux worked during his summer vacations from high school. He had just come off his shift when he found her standing in the woods next to where the crumpled cars had been towed away. He had stayed with her the whole time, talking to her even though he felt like he was going to vomit, until she disappeared into her own bit of light.

He didn’t really get any concrete answers until he moved to Durham—one of the cities in the Colonies named for one in old England—for university. He had thought he might go back home for school, but he decided he would rather attend an elite institution in the States than go back across the pond. He had come to America after his mother had passed away, when his father, an ex-army paratrooper, got a job teaching tactics at Fort Bragg. It wasn’t often they brought in foreign expertise, but Brendol Hux had been good at his work when he was serving and was a valuable asset.

Hux’s father had wanted him to follow in the family tradition of military service, but Hux had staunchly declined, instead determined to study psychology. He had kept impressive grades throughout high school and had earned himself a scholarship to study at Arkanis University. It was there, in the city just outside of campus, that he found Maz’s shop.

The storefront was cluttered with displays of crystals and altars and coyotes’ skulls, but inside it was neatly kept and the display cases were filled with mysterious objects whose purpose eighteen-year-old Hux could only imagine. The bookshelves were packed with grimoires and herbal healing manuals, some of which Hux was perusing when Maz approached him that first time.

“You have a question for me, boy,” she had said, adjusting her thick-lensed glasses. She was half Hux’s height and had a head of curly black hair and smooth dark skin.

Hux had looked down at her with uncertainty. “Ah, I don’t think so. I’m just browsing.”

“No,” she insisted. “There’s something you want to know. About your special gift.”

“My _what_?” Hux said, feeling the blood drain from his face. He had never told anyone about his ability to see spirits and no one had ever guessed, at least before this.

Maz chuckled. “Come have a cup of tea with me.” She turned and started walking, just assuming Hux would follow her. Unable to do anything else, he did.

In a back room hidden behind a purple velvet curtain, she produced an electric kettle and a pair of mugs. She dropped what appeared to be a home-blended sachet of tea into each and sat down at the rickety table in the corner.

“Sit,” she said to Hux.

He sank onto the chair, folding his hands in his lap.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Maz continued. “I’m not going to bite you. I want to help you. You’re seeking guidance.”

“How do you know that?” Hux asked.

“A trained eye sees,” she replied. “So, you want to know about the spirits. I’m surprised you’ve made it this far without consulting anyone.” She clicked her tongue. “You have good intuition for dealing with them, but I can help you understand how to...mm...help them along on their journey.”

Hux leaned forward with interest. “Help them cross over, you mean? Is that what they do when they go to the light? I assumed so, but I could never get a straight answer.”

“They are crossing over to the next realm, yes,” said Maz. “While they are present in our world still, they are in limbo, waiting to accept their new place and move on.”

“Why can I see them?” Hux said; it was the question he had always wanted to ask.

Maz shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. Some people are just natural mediums. You seem to be one. Does it frighten you?”

Hux answered bluntly, “Not anymore.”

Maz had poured them tea then and they had spent the next hour discussing Hux’s connection to the spirit realm that she called limbo. It was far more expansive than Hux could fathom, but it felt good to finally hear that he wasn’t alone in his ability. Maz didn’t have it, but she could commune in her own ways with the other realms.

When they were finished with their tea, Hux was renewed and prepared for the next time he saw a spirit. He would help it to cross over and give it peace, if it was within his power. He didn’t want to seek out the spirits, but if he found them, he would make their transition easier.

Standing in the Alderaan State Penitentiary now, he knew there was one nearby. The placard above to the open door read “Infirmary,” and Hux could guess who he was about to meet. Cautiously, he peeked around the edge of the door and into the room. There was no one inside, so Hux ventured further. Most of the beds were empty, but one at the end of the row was curtained off. Hux went to it and gently moved the curtain to the side. His stomach lurched again.

There was a man standing beside the bed, looking down at it with a curious expression. He seemed lost. That was common among spirits, Hux had discovered. He often had to help orient them before sending them on their way. This man had definitely been a prisoner; he wore the orange trousers and a white t-shirt. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders and he had an angular nose, a soft but high jawline.      

“Hello,” Hux said.

The man looked up, startled. “Oh. Hey.” His eyes—brown—narrowed. “You’re not the doc.”

Hux took a step closer, eyeing the bed and finding it occupied by a sheet-draped body. “Not the infirmary doctor, no,” he told the spirit. “I am a doctor, however.”

“Right,” the spirit said. He gestured to the bed. “You here to look at this guy?”

“Not exactly.” Hux knew he didn’t have to look under the sheet. The man there would look just like this apparition, and it would only serve to distress the spirit to show him his physical body. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Me?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. One minute I was coming in from the yard and the next…” He trailed off. “Well, there was a sting. Something hurt. I fell maybe?” He shook his head. “But then I woke up standing right here, looking at some stiff.”

Hux was accustomed to this. Most spirits didn’t remember the exact moments of their deaths, the memories having been washed away by some benevolent force. Hux wasn’t a religious man, but seeing the dead did lend itself to a belief in some kind of power beyond human knowledge.

“I’d imagine this has been quite a shock for you,” he said, keeping his tone even and calm, “but I assure you you’re all right now and that you can let go.”

The man eyed him. “Let go of what?”

“Whatever is keeping you bound here. What is preventing you from going to the other side.”

Hux had been on the receiving end of incredulous looks before, but this one was particularly cutting.

“What kind of doctor are you, exactly?” the dead man asked.

Hux fiddled with the edges of the pages of his legal pad. “I am a psychologist.”

The man barked a laugh. “Oh, Christ, they sent me a shrink? I thought the taxpayers of the great state of North Carolina didn’t fund mental healthcare for death row inmates. Kind of a waste, don’t you think?”

“You were on death row?” Hux said. He almost winced at the past tense. This spirit still wasn’t aware of its passing.

“You’re supposed to be my shrink and you don’t know my history?” The man huffed. “Do you even know my name?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” said Hux.

“Some kind of doc you are,” he muttered, but he stuck out his hand. “Kylo Ren.”

Hux knew the name immediately; he was one of the men Hux had been set to interview here within the next few weeks. Kylo Ren, born Benjamin Solo, six-feet-three-inches, twenty-nine years old, convicted of three murders of Charlotte-area women over the course of eight months in 2014. He had been tried in 2015 and been on Alderaan’s death row for three years.

Hux looked down at the partially translucent hand held out to him. He wasn’t in the habit of shaking hands with the criminals he worked with, but in this case, he thought it might be a good way to break the news of his death of this spirit. Maybe that would help him cross over and Hux could leave. Carefully, Hux extended his hand, reaching for something he knew he couldn’t touch. As Ren closed his fingers around Hux’s they passed right through.

“What the hell?” Ren said, staring at his palm.

Hux prepared the speech he had used many times before: “Don’t be alarmed. This phase is a natural part of your transition into the next plane. You just have to accept what’s happened and take your next steps.” He always hesitated on “into the light,” but he managed to get it out.

Ren held his hands up in front of his face, turning them back to front. He met Hux’s eyes through them. “Are you saying I’m dead, Doc?”

“You are, yes,” Hux replied, with due solemnity. “I’m sorry.”

 Ren chewed his bottom lip, turning to the body on the gurney. “So, uh, this is me?”

Hux nodded.

“What happened? I don’t remember.”

“That’s for the best,” said Hux. “You’re not supposed to dwell on it. It will slow the process of crossing to the other side.”

Ren frowned at him. “Then I’ll take my time. What happened?”

Hux reached for the medical chart hanging at the foot of the gurney. The infirmary doctor’s handwriting was difficult to make out, but Hux got the general gist. “It was a stabbing. Several wounds. You, ah, bled out before help could get to you.”

Hux wasn’t certain what kind of response he was expecting, but it wasn’t a belabored sigh.

“So, that’s it, huh? Somebody shivved me and I died in a pool of my own blood on the floor of this hell hole?” He scoffed. “That’s my exit. Stage left.”

“I’m sorry,” Hux said again, not sure what else he could offer.

Ren turned to him and, to his surprise, shrugged. “I was on the way out, anyway. I guess this is as good as anything else.” He touched the edge of the sheet covering the body. “Can I see?”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Hux.

“Right. I guess not.” Ren shoved his hands into his pockets, oddly nonchalant. “So, about this next plane thing…”

“Yes. It shouldn’t be long now. You’ll see something...a light or a door. Just go through. Don’t wait.”

Ren nodded his head once. “Got it. Go through the door. What’s on the other side?”

“I don’t know,” Hux said. “I can’t pass through.” Nor did he want to. Not yet anyway.

“But you can see me?” He cringed. “See _ghosts_?”

“Only the spirits of the recently departed,” Hux said.

“How recent is recent?” Ren asked. “We talking minutes or hours?”

“Quite some time,” Hux replied. “If the spirit is restless enough.”

Ren chuckled. “Do I look like a restless ghost to you, Doc?”

“Let’s hope not,” said Hux, the corners of his mouth turning up. There was something strangely genial about Ren—rare amongst the kind of men in prison. “I hope the passage goes quickly for you.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving?”

Hux said, “I’m not really permitted to stay in the building without someone for very long. And it’s not necessarily appropriate that I’m in here with you. Nobody else can see you in this form, after all.”

“Yeah, guess so,” said Ren. “Well, thanks for the well-wishes. I’ll look out for that light.”

Hux backed up a step, said “Good luck to you,” and then left the infirmary. He made tracks to the visitor’s entrance, where he retrieved his briefcase and coat. He waved to the guard in the booth and went out to the parking lot.

It was only around two o’clock in the afternoon and the sun and temperature were still high. He tossed his things into the passenger seat of his Civic and turned on the air conditioning at full blast. He took a moment to breathe, allowing his stomach to settle before he put the car in gear and drove out onto the country road leading away from the prison.

It was a shame he would be losing Kylo Ren as one of his interview subjects, and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man’s undignified manner of death. Hux knew he shouldn’t really mourn a multiple murderer, but it must have been painful and frightening to die that way—on the floor of a prison.

Strange how calm Ren had been about it when Hux broke the news, though. Some spirits wept, others grew angry until Hux could soothe them. But Ren had just taken it all in stride. Maybe that was the mark of a deranged psyche, but somehow Hux got the impression that Ren was more resigned than anything. Hux had meant what he said to him, though; he hoped his crossing over was swift and smooth.

There was a motel in the vicinity of the prison, where most family members stayed when they got the chance to visit, but Hux disdained grungy places like that, so he had found a remarkably quaint bed and breakfast nearby. It was a slightly longer drive, but it was worth it for the cozy accommodations and the proprietor. Her name was Vera and she was sixty-nine years old. She made him not only breakfast but a sandwich for lunch to take to the prison. He could eat out if she was away, but more often than not, they shared the kitchen and made dinner together while they listened to big band swing on vinyl.

Hux parked next to her little Ford Fiesta in the driveway, flagstone path marking his way to the door. It was blessedly cool inside and smelled of lavender. He took off his shoes and put them in the rack next to Vera’s size sixes before making his way through the dining room and up the stairs to his bedroom. It was a loft-style space, its queen-sized bed neatly made with an antique quilt. It was a bit rustic for Hux’s taste, but it fit the decor of this house.

Undressing and folding his clothes, Hux went into the bathroom to have a hot shower. The water sputtered a bit to start, but it was nice once it got going. When he was finished, he put on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt, intent on typing up his notes from the day while he waited for Vera to get home in the evening.

Toweling his hair dry, he went to the desk at the back to the room. His silver laptop sat at the center, a few other legal pads and pencils scattered around. On the floor to the right of the desk was the box of files he had collected on all of his interviewees. He looked over the colored tabs briefly, alighting on Ren, Kylo. Pulling the folder from the box, he set it on top of the desk.

The first case was the stabbing death of a girl named Rebecca Shaw in her apartment in Charlotte. Ren had been talking with her in a local watering hole called First Order Bar and Grill, but he had apparently struck out with her. Investigators said Ren had followed her home, grabbed a knife from her kitchen, and stabbed her ten times. She had been found in the bathroom with the shower still running, washing her clean of blood and trace evidence.

The subsequent killings had been carried out the same way, though Ren had never used the same weapon twice. He also never left a single print or any kind of trace. The authorities had assumed that most of the victims hadn’t had time to fight back, as there was never any epithelial DNA under their fingernails. Hux also suspected that Ren had worn long sleeves and a mask to protect his skin from scratches, an argument that the prosecution had made, even if it was something they could not prove.

Ren’s meticulousness and careful choice of victim allowed him to kill two more young women in the area, until he finally slipped up. The final victim, Emily North, had managed to pull out few strands of his hair, which had stuck in the shower drain. Thankfully, there had never been any sign of sexual assault; it seemed Ren was not that kind of sadist. The crime lab had been able to gather DNA from the roots of the hairs and identify him. He had been in the military—a Marine—so his DNA was on file.

After that it had been an open-and-shut case. The police had been able to tie him by various circumstantial evidence to the other murders, and he had been convicted by a jury of his peers and sentenced to death. His lawyers had made the case for life in prison, but the judge wasn’t having it. It was three counts of capital murder.

Ren had been conspicuously quiet throughout the trial proceedings, never taking the stand and always sitting impassively beside his legal team. He pleaded not guilty, but nobody had been under the impression that that plea would stand up in court. He had accepted the sentence without protest or a statement to the media, despite the active coverage of the case. He hadn’t played along with the circus or drawn more attention to himself, as some serial killers did. He just stayed silent and took what came to him.

Some reporters said it was unnerving how calm he was, but his psychologists seemed to think it wasn’t psychopathy. He was curt and gruff with them all and yet never seemed to display a propensity for violence. In fact, one doctor had testified that she didn’t think he was capable of the murders. Her expertise was called into question by the prosecution because of her youth, but she held firm, saying that Kylo Ren wasn’t a killer. Hux had studied her notes on him extensively and found that her conclusions weren’t all that different than the others’, though she was the only one to come forward and argue that he hadn’t killed the girls. Hux had considered calling her after he interviewed Ren; now he wouldn’t have that chance.

Sitting at the desk, Hux thumbed through the details of the rest of the murders and the evidence the police had gathered. The only DNA evidence they had was at the final crime scene and, as he read, he thought he could have poked a few holes in the circumstantial evidence that had been brought against Ren for the other murders. He was working through the account of the third victim when he heard Vera come through the front door, chatting on her cell phone. He laid the files aside and stretched, heading down to say hello to her.

“Armitage!” she said when he appeared at the foot of the stairs. “You’re home early. Did something happen?”

Hux, going to the refrigerator and pulling out a can of sparkling water, explained the ruckus in the cell block, though he kept the details of Ren’s demise to himself.

“Oh my,” said Vera, “that’s such a dangerous place. I just can’t imagine you there, dear, talking to all those horrible men. I want you to finish up soon, but I also don’t want to see you go.” She smiled, producing a shrink-wrapped chicken from one of the shopping bags she had brought in. “I thought rosemary chicken would do for tonight. Sound good?”

“It does,” Hux said. “Shall I make some roast potatoes to go along with it?”

“Please do, dear.”

Vera gave him an account of her bridge club meeting that afternoon, sharing the gossip while they cooked together. She had quite the tumultuous relationship with her friend Gertrude, who had dated her ex-boyfriend some thirty years before. Apparently, there was still some tension.

When the food was done, they sat at the kitchen table and discussed books. Hux had been reading _The Sound and the Fury_ and Vera the newest Nora Roberts. It wasn’t quite a matched conversation, but they managed. Hux sat in the living room with her afterwards, idly looking over his notes while she watched _House Hunters_.

At around ten o’clock, Hux excused himself to go to bed. He was just entering his room when his dinner almost made another appearance. He froze in the doorway as he saw someone standing by his desk, with his broad back to him. Kylo Ren turned at the sound of Hux’s indrawn breath.

“You’ve been reading up on me, huh, Doc?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked.

The files on his case were still spread out over the top of the desk, Hux knew. He was dumbfounded to see Ren here. He had never encountered a spirit away from the place where its body had last been. Managing to regain his powers of speech, he said, “What are you doing here? _How_ did you get here?”

“Well,” said Ren, “no lights or doors appeared in the infirmary, so I figured I’d come ask you if you had anything else to tell me.”

Hux gaped at him. “You followed me? How?”

Ren tipped his head to the side, considering. “I dunno really. I just thought about wanting to find you and I showed up here.”

Swallowing against his rising gorge, Hux shut the door and took a few steps into the room. He had never heard of a ghost being able to travel before. Ren was watching him with a steady, unconcerned gaze, but he asked, “You feeling okay, Doc?”

“I’m afraid your presence makes me somewhat ill,” Hux replied. “It’s a side effect of my ability to see you.”

“Oh. Sorry. Should I go?”

_Yes_ , Hux thought. _Right away._ However, he said aloud, “No. I need to know more about how you found me.” He went to the bed and sat down, looking up at Ren. “You really just _thought_ about it and ended up here?”

Ren rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the best way I can describe it. I was just standing around after they took my body to the morgue, waiting for that light, but nothing ever showed. I was getting bored, so I looked you up.”

“Finding a living person by just wishing it isn’t the same thing as Googling their name,” Hux grumbled. “But I can tell you that you should return to the prison. You might be lingering, but it’s likely that your invitation to the other side will come there and not here.”

“You think?” Ren asked. “I guess I could go back.”

“I do,” Hux replied sharply. “I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here.”

Ren sucked his teeth, looking down. “Maybe not, but it’s kind of depressing to hang around the morgue.”

Hux rubbed the bridge of his nose, at a loss. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I’ve never been in this situation before. But I don’t recommend you stay with me.”

“Okay, I get it,” Ren said. “You want to get rid of me. Can’t say I blame you. I’ll just keep looking for that light, huh?”

“That’s all the advice I can give you,” said Hux. “It’s never been a problem for any of you before.”

Ren brushed his hands together, asking, “So, you see ghosts a lot?”

“A fair number,” Hux sighed. “It’s been a while. But I try to see them on their way to the next plane when I find them. I’d like that for you.”

“If it means I don’t have to stand around bored anymore,” said Ren, “I’ll take it. I don’t really feel like haunting Alderaan for eternity, you know?”

Hux huffed a laugh despite himself. “As far as I know, no spirits linger forever. I think you’ll be just fine to move on soon.”

Ren nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll be going. Thanks for...this, Doc.”

“I didn’t do much,” Hux said, “but I do hope you make your crossing.”

Ren gave him a crooked smile. “Never thought I’d hear that. Anyway, see you, Doc.” With that, he winked out of the room, leaving Hux alone.

Hux flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wouldn’t immediately be able to sleep; he wanted to know how it was possible that Kylo could locate him and travel to his place in physical space. It was likely that he would have to talk to Maz. Maybe he’d call her tomorrow evening after he finished with his interviews. Speaking of, if he couldn’t sleep, he might as well transcribe some of the recordings he had made of Thrawn over the past few days. He went to the desk, turned on the small lamp, and got to work.

 

* * *

 

The air conditioning in the prison was less than ideal, leaving Hux and his interviewees to sweat in their stuffy little room. He had been at it since eight in the morning and it was now nearing one o’clock. He decided he had had enough of the Myrtle Beach Strangler for now and called Officer Daniels in to remove him back to his cell. Leaving the interview room, he went to the guard room, where his sack lunch—lovingly made by Vera this morning—was waiting. The guards were having some food of their own and talking.

“The cops don’t have any idea about it,” said Officer McNeil. “They’ve got their thumbs up their asses while some psycho goes around killing girls.”

“How many is it now?” asked Officer Majewski around a handful of potato chips.

“Three,” McNeil replied. “All NC State students in Raleigh. Damn shame.” He adjusted the thick belt around his waist, from which hung a can of pepper spray and a billy club. “He belongs in here with the rest of these nightmares.”

“Amen to that, boy,” Officer Odum said in his deep mountain accent. “I hear they’re calling in the FBI on the case to try to get the guy. Bet the local boys don’t appreciate the Feds, but if it saves girls’ lives, then I’m behind it.”

The others muttered their agreement.

Hux hadn’t been following the Raleigh murders closely, but he knew that the police had been trying to apprehend the culprit for over six months. The first murder had been in January and everyone had thought it was a one-off—until another girl died the same way: stabbed ten times in the torso with medical precision. This was no rage killer, but someone who carefully chose his victims. He would likely make a good subject for Hux’s book, if he were currently in prison.

Hux retrieved his lunch from the communal mini refrigerator before leaving the guards to their conversation. He had been given permission to retreat to the warden’s office when he needed a break and Tarkin was out. He went there now, pulling a chair over to the edge of the pristine steel desk and sitting to unpack his sandwich and can of sparkling water—unflavored. He was flipping through his notes and munching placidly when the nausea hit. It wasn’t as strong as usual, but it was enough to make him flinch. Glancing sharply up, he saw Kylo Ren standing by the warden’s bookshelf, looking over the titles.

“You’d think he’d have something more interesting than criminal justice and penal theory,” Ren said, “but no such luck. Not that I can pick one of these up anyway.” He reached for a book and his hand passed through it. Sighing, he turned to Hux. “Hey, Doc.”

Hux set down his half-eaten sandwich and said, “Hello, Mr. Ren.”

“No way you’re calling me that,” Ren said, wrinkling his long nose in distaste. “It’s just Kylo, okay?”

“Very well,” said Hux, though he had been hoping that he wouldn’t have to call Ren anything in particular; he should have crossed over by now. “I see you’re still around. Did we not agree that it’s best you stay with your body?”

“They buried me in the county plot today,” Ren said. “On the taxpayers’ dime. I think I was the only one there to mourn myself.” He laughed, a cutting edge to it. “They had a priest, though, which I guess is nice. Too bad I don’t believe in any of that. Although”—he rubbed his chin—“bit of a surprise that there’s an afterlife. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“I don’t know what’s on the other side,” Hux said. “It could be nothing or it could be the Biblical heaven. Or anything in between.”

“Well,” said Ren, “this is a kind of afterlife. I’m conscious and aware. Doesn’t that count?”

“I suppose so,” Hux conceded. “My friend Maz calls it ‘limbo.’”

Ren hummed. “Like the Catholic purgatory? Where all the sinners have to wait and defend themselves against their sins before they’re either admitted to heaven or damned to hell?”

“That might be a little extreme,” Hux said. “There’s no judgment that I’ve encountered, and as far as I know there’s just the next plane, no heaven and no hell. But as I said—”

“I know, I know,” said Ren, raising a hand to stop him. “You don’t know what’s on the other side. I’ve got it.”

Hux pursed his lips; he didn’t like being interrupted. “Yes, well,” he said. “Did you come up here to find me?”

Ren came closer, crossing his arms over his chest as he loomed over Hux in his chair. “I didn’t know you’d be back, but I was just ambling around and saw you in here. You’re not on the staff, though. We don’t have a shrink.”

“No,” said Hux. “I’m here conducting interviews for my research. I’m writing a book.”

Ren’s eyebrows rose. “Is that right? On criminals?”

“Serial murders, in fact.”

“You’re in the right place, I guess,” Ren said.

Hux waffled for a moment, but then said, “You were on my list of people to interview, actually.”

Ren’s expression darkened, but not menacingly. He looked, if Hux had to guess, almost disappointed. “Oh, yeah, I figure that makes sense,” he said, more subdued.

Most serial offenders came alive at the mention of their crimes, especially when they had never shown outright remorse for them. Ren, though, was not exuding pride or craving attention. He shrank away from hearing that he was responsible for several deaths. This was more like the man he had been at his trial.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now,” Hux said. “I’m going to be here another few weeks. I just need to wrap up my work.”

“And then you go off to write your book, huh?” Ren asked. “Do you have another job? Like at a college or something?”

Hux tried not to wince. This was a bit of a sore spot. “Well, I worked at a practice for a few months, but didn’t get on with my colleagues.”

It had been more that they had pushed him out when he made it clear how bored he was seeing housewives with neuroses and children with mood disorders. After that he had tried to apply to several other practices, but none of them had worked out. He didn’t want to see those kinds of patients anyway; he wanted to study the criminal mind. Too bad it didn’t pay much.

“I do some consulting at hospitals sometimes,” Hux said. “And I’ve been invited to teach a class or two at Wake Community College.”

He didn’t need to mention that it was Psychology 101, but the adjunct’s salary had been enough to get him through the past year. He was lucky that he had inherited his house from his godmother Rae and had no mortgage to worry about.

“You like doing that?” Ren said. “Or do you prefer talking to murderers?”

Hux wet his lips, hesitating. “My main interest is criminal psychology. The rest of those things...they pay the bills, for now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” said Ren. “I worked as an electrician, like my dad, but I always wanted to go to college.”

“And study what?” Hux asked, genuinely curious. One’s aspirations conveyed a great deal about one’s psychology.

Ren’s posture grew highly defensive. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

Hux offered his open palms. “It’s not my place to judge you for your choices. Tell me.”

Ren mumbled something unintelligible while looking at the ground.

“Kylo,” said Hux. “It’s all right. You can say.”

“Literature,” Ren sighed. “I’ve always like to read, even as a little kid. I always had more books than any other personal stuff while I was deployed, too.”

“In the Marines,” Hux said.

“You know about that?” Ren asked, clearly surprised.

Hux nodded. “I read your files.”

“Oh. Right.”

“There’s nothing wrong with studying literature,” Hux said, shifting in his seat so he could face him properly and look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you do it?”

“My dad needed the help in the family business,” Ren replied. “So, I just did that after I got out of the service. It was okay. You make decent money.”

“Probably more than I do,” Hux laughed, even if it stung.

“Yeah, maybe. But you’ll make something off of this book, right?”

Hux raised one shoulder and dropped it again. “Probably not a great deal, but it might secure me a position at a university or even in law enforcement.”

“So, you’d be like the shrinks that tried to figure me out before I went on trial?” Ren asked. There wasn’t any venom in the question, just curiosity.

“I might be called to consult on a case,” Hux replied, “but I doubt that would be my primary work. If I had to choose an ideal situation, it would be a position where I could work on active cases and write up my findings.”

“Sounds like an interesting life, if you ask me,” said Ren. “And you can just tell by looking at you that it really gets you worked up. In a good way.”

Hux chuckled. “It does excite me.” He touched his stomach, realizing the nausea had subsided. It wasn’t as difficult to be in Ren’s presence as it was with other spirits before him.

It was nearing the end of Hux’s lunch hour, and while he reasoned that it would be best just to send Ren on his way again, he found himself asking, “Do you have a favorite author?”

“I really like Faulkner,” Ren said. “Something about the way he writes just speaks to me. I read _As I Lay Dying_ when I was fifteen.”

“What an interesting coincidence,” said Hux. “I’ve just been reading _The Sound and the Fury_.”

Ren brightened. “Really? What do you think?”

Hux rapped his knuckles on the desktop. “Well, I’ve not always been a fan of stream-of-consciousness prose, but I have to admit that I like it.”

“Yeah, I liked _Sanctuary_ better,” said Ren, “but the last book, _The Reivers,_ really deserved the Nobel Prize it won. That book changed me. Have you read it?”

Hux shook his head. “But if it comes so highly recommended, I think I’ll pick it up after I finish this current one.”

Ren grinned, displaying slightly crooked front teeth, a gap between them. Hux had never in any of the pictures of him from his files seen his smile. There was an undeniable charm about it. “You do that, Doc. You do that.”

While Hux wasn’t sick to his stomach anymore, he wasn’t hungry for the rest of his lunch, either. He tucked the sandwich back into the plastic wrap and put it back in the bag. He did, however, drink the last of his water.

“I do have to go back to my work now,” he said to Ren. “If you’d like, I’ll call my friend Maz and ask her about your difficulties crossing over.”

“Sounds good,” said Ren. “Should I, uh, find you again later, then?”

Hux wasn’t sure what the appropriate time to commune with a ghost would be, but he replied, “How about tonight around ten? I’ll be in the same place I was last night.”

“Okay, Doc. See you then.” Ren walked toward the office door and out, passing right through it.

Hux allowed himself a sigh before he tossed his leftovers in the trash and returned to the guards’ room to let them know he was ready for his next interview.

 

* * *

 

He and Vera shared a dinner of lemon pepper fish fillets and arugula salad—spicy and delicious—after which he retired to his bedroom to telephone Maz about Kylo. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to ask, but he could at least explain the situation and go from there. He hoped she would have something to offer.

He was just dialing the shop number when his phone’s screen lit up with an incoming call. Sometimes Maz had strange intuition for when he needed something, but the number wasn’t hers; it wasn’t one he recognized. Annoyed, he hit the green button to accept the call.

“Hello, this is Armitage Hux.”

The voice on the other line sent him careening back to his university days: “Hux, how are you?” Phasma, his old study partner from Arkanis. He hadn’t spoken to her since they graduated. As far as he knew, she had gone to the FBI Academy. Like him, she came from England, but had been in the United States long enough to be naturalized.

“Phasma, good God,” he said. “This is unexpected. I’m well. How are you?”

“Well enough,” she replied. “I’ve been rather busy of late.”

Hux said, “Do tell.”

She laughed in the familiar haughty-sounding way. Phasma wasn’t stuck up, but had always had a certain presence like that about her: dignified, even a little threatening. “Well, after I left the Academy, I landed a job in major crimes with the Bureau. Been at it for the past year or so.”

“Congratulations,” Hux said, not without envy.

“Thanks much,” said Phasma. “Anyway, I got assigned to a case back down here recently. Have you heard about the stabbings in Raleigh?”

“Of course,” Hux replied. “That’s a major case for a junior agent.”

“It really is, but they’ve somehow got it into their heads that I’m the person for the job. But I have a favor to ask of you.”

Hux kept his tone even despite his interest: “Have you?”

“Yes. To be honest, I’m not the strongest profiler in the game and we really need someone who can look at this case and come up with one. You were the best in our year; every professor knew it. Would you be available to do some consulting on the case? You’ll be paid, of course.”

Hux clenched his free hand into a fist, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet and then back down. He was glad she couldn’t see his childish excitement.

“How long would this arrangement last?” he managed to ask, considering the practicalities. This would take him away from his work at the prison, which he was reluctant to relinquish, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.

“Well,” said Phasma, “how long will it take you to draw up a profile and present it to the team?”

Hux didn’t rightly know, but he guessed: “A week, maybe two. I’ll need to consider all the evidence and catch up on the current theories.” At least that’s what he figured he’d need. “Is that acceptable?”

“We’re flexible,” Phasma said. “All that matters is catching this man. We’ll give you everything you need.”

“All right, then,” Hux said. “I’ll take the job.”

“Splendid! Can you come down as soon as possible? I think you still live in-state, don’t you?”

Hux paced over to his desk, pulling out his calendar. He only had plans to be at Alderaan for the next two weeks. He could easily let the warden know he’d have to take a break and return later. It wasn’t as if his subjects were going anywhere.

“I’m up north a bit,” he said, “but I can get there by tomorrow afternoon. Will you text me the address of your operations?”

“Absolutely,” said Phasma. “It’s not hard to find. We’ve got a whole room set up for the task force. My partner arranged it.”

“All right,” Hux said. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning. Is there anything else I need to know right now?”

“No. We’ll brief you when you get here.” She paused, but then added, “And this is something we have to keep confidential—no press, no public knowledge. You understand that?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Hux.”

She hung up and Hux lowered his phone, staring at it in wonder. This was his first chance to put together the profile of an active serial killer. He was thrilled and, admittedly, a bit nervous. This wasn’t university; this was a critical part of an investigation.

His phone buzzed with a new text from Phasma, this one the address of their base of operations. It was in downtown Raleigh. Hux entered the address into his GPS app for tomorrow morning, and then plugged the phone in to charge. He would have to let Vera know right away that he would have to leave.

She was sitting downstairs in the den, watching television with a cup of steaming Nighty Night tea blend. She smiled as she saw him. “Hello, dear. Do you need something?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he said. “I’m going to have to go to Raleigh tomorrow to do some work for a friend. I might be gone for up to two weeks. I know I’m paid up in advance here, so—”

She interrupted him: “That’s fine, dear. I can transfer your balance to when you come back.” She raised her white eyebrows. “You _are_ coming back?”

“I am,” Hux replied. “I have interviews to finish yet.”

“Lovely,” Vera said. “I’ll keep your room for you. You’re welcome to leave those big boxes of files here while you’re gone.”

Hux smiled. “I had been just about to ask. Thank you.”

“Of course, dear.”

Hux returned to his bedroom to start packing his things for the trip. He tucked the files into their boxes and put the tops on, stacking them in the corner of the room. His suitcase he retrieved from the closet and laid out on his bed. He was recalling his training in profiling when a touch of nausea made his stomach clench.

“Hey, Doc,” said Kylo from his place by the bathroom. He was leaning against the doorframe, one hand in the pocket of his orange trousers.

“Good evening, Kylo,” Hux said, leaving his packing for now. “Still no crossin over, I see.”

Ren shook his head. “Nope. Still hanging around. Bored out of my mind wandering the prison, though. I thought about coming to see you earlier, but I figured you wouldn’t be a fan of that. You seem like you keep to a schedule.”

Hux eyed him, displeased that he had been called out. “Yes, well, I appreciate that. I’ve had other things to take care of today.”

“Like talking to your medium friend?” Ren asked.

“Ah, I’m afraid I didn’t get a hold of her before the shop closed,” Hux replied, “and I don’t have a personal number for her. Don’t think she has one.”

“Oh,” Ren said, his shoulders rounding in obvious disappointment.

Hux was quick to say, “I apologize, really. I got a bit side-tracked by a call from an old friend of mine. She wants me to come work a criminal case with her in Raleigh.” He would keep it in confidence with anyone living, but it didn’t seem like a problem to tell a dead man. “There’s been a spate of stabbings of young college women. They want me to profile the killer.”

“Sounds like something you’d be interested in,” said Ren.

“It is,” Hux said. “I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Ren adjusted his stance, rising up to his full height again. “That means you’re leaving town, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” Ren hummed. “Guess that makes sense. How long will you be gone?”

“A week or two, probably.” He chewed his cheek, unsure how to phrase the next thing he wanted to say. “I, ah, do hope you’ll have crossed over by then.”

Ren shrugged. “I haven’t got the first idea how to, Doc. I keep looking for those lights and doors, but there’s nothing. You sure you can’t get in touch with that medium about it?”

“I could call her tomorrow,” said Hux, “but I don’t have any way to contact you if I do.”

“Right,” Ren said, eyes turned down. “Well, I guess I’ll just keep waiting until something happens.”

Hux sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish I had something more to tell you.”

“It’s okay, Doc. It’s not your fault.” Ren glanced at Hux’s half-packed suitcase. “You’ve got things to do. I should leave you to it.”

Hux _did_ , but he found himself saying, “You can stay for a while, if you’d like. As long as you don’t mind my working while you’re here.”

Ren perked up, a small, closed-lipped smile on his lips. “Yeah? That would be nice. I won’t get in your way. And even if I did, you could walk right through me.”

Hux laughed lightly. “I suppose that’s true.” He gestured to the easy chair in the corner by the television. “Feel free to sit down.”

Ren took the seat, laying his forearms on the rests, fingers just curving over the ends. He had short, well-kept nails and long fingers. “So, Doc, how’d you get into this business, anyway? You always been interested in crime?”

“Yes,” Hux said as he took a shirt from the closet, folded it neatly, and put it into his suitcase. “I used to read all sorts of detective novels as a boy, and then there were the forensics television shows.”

“Didn’t want to be a CSI?” Ren asked. “Those shows used to make it seem pretty interesting.”

“I prefer human puzzles to inanimate ones,” Hux replied. “The mind is fascinating. What makes us all different people captivated me as a young adult. I used to read about psychology and try to psychoanalyze my school friends.”

“How’d they take that?” said Ren.

Hux folded a pair of trousers along the creases and tucked them next to his shirts. “Some better than others. Having your personality laid out for you isn’t always something you want.”

“I can relate,” Ren grumbled. “I got tired of hearing about my psyche during my trial. Everybody wanted to dissect me.”

“There were several different views on your personality,” Hux said. “Most of your doctors said you didn’t seem aggressive and prone to violence. That’s not true of most offenders.”

Ren’s reply was short, “Yeah, I remember. But they convicted me anyway, so what does it matter what those shrinks said?”

Hux paused to look at him, studying his sullen expression. “You don’t like talking about it.”

“No,” Ren said. “No point. I can’t change anything now. I’m in the ground, just like they wanted me to be.”

“You likely would have declined to be a part of my study, wouldn’t you?” Hux asked. “If you don’t like discussing what happened.”

Ren rubbed his knuckles over his mouth, stalling. When he glanced up, there was something hungry in his eyes, but it wasn’t murderous. “Well, if I had gotten a look at you beforehand, I probably would have. Meant I would have been able to sit in a room and watch you for a few days.”

Hux balked. “You...you find me attractive?” It had come up during the course of Ren’s trial that he was bisexual, having had relations with both men and women. That was uncharacteristic of murders of women; they were predominantly heterosexual.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Ren asked.

“A little,” Hux replied, unable to lie.

Ren leaned back in the chair, gaze unwaveringly focused on Hux. “Is it because you’re not gay or because I’m a criminal?”

“I...well, I _am_ inclined to men,” Hux said, “but maybe it’s a little unnerving for you to be interested in me because of your history.”

“That’s fair,” Ren said. “I guess I’d be a little creeped out, too. Forget I said anything.”

Hux said nothing, only returned to packing. After a quiet minute or two, he covered his mouth as he yawned.

“You’re beat, Doc,” said Ren as he got up from the chair. “I’ll head out. Good luck with your profile and everything.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Is it weird to say that I hope we don’t see each other again?”

“It’s not,” Hux said. He wasn’t able to shake Ren’s hand, so he settled for a feeble wave. “Goodbye, Kylo.”

Ren raised a hand. “Bye, Doc,” he said, and then he was gone.

Hux finished up his packing quickly, leaving out his clothes for tomorrow before zipping up his suitcase and putting it by the door. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom, looking himself over in the mirror. He hadn’t had a boyfriend since he’d graduated from university and he hadn’t gotten a compliment on his appearance in just as long. It was true that Ren’s interest was a bit unsettling, but Hux couldn’t deny a small thrill of pleasure. Ren was handsome, too, and Hux had caught himself admiring his hands earlier. Had they met under completely different circumstances and Ren had not been the man he was—guilty of what he was—Hux might have agreed to go out with him. That, too, was a bit off-putting.

“Good lord, Armitage,” he said aloud. “Pull yourself together.”

Brushed and washed and very much alone, he crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He needn’t worry about Ren anymore; he’d not see him again. Part of him was disappointed. Letting out a long breath and putting it all from his mind, Hux closed his eyes and tried to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

As predicted, it took Hux just over three hours to drive from Alderaan to the Raleigh Police Department Headquarters off of Six Forks Road, where he parked in a visitor’s space in the half-empty lot. After getting out, he took a moment to stretch his cramped back. It wasn’t yet noon, but it was already hot and muggy—a sticky kind of heaviness to the air that smelled of asphalt and lingering dampness of still-drying soil. It had rained here yesterday. Retrieving his briefcase from the passenger seat, he headed toward the main entrance of the building. The Civic beeped at him as he clicked the lock button on his keychain.

“Good morning,” he said to the officer posted at the metal detector just inside the blessedly air-conditioned police station. “My name is Dr. Armitage Hux. I’m here to see, ah, Special Agent Phasma Laurent. She’s with the FBI task force.”

“Mmhm,” the officer mumbled, shifting from the tall stool on which he had been perched, reading on a Kindle. “Let me see your bag, and take off your belt.”

Hux handed over his briefcase, which the officer opened and rifled through while Hux removed his belt and set it on the table. The officer gestured him through the metal detector.

“The task force is in the room up the hall to the left,” said the officer.

“Thank you,” Hux said, taking his things and making his way along the yellowed linoleum floor. He peered into a few rooms along his way, coming upon one full of activity at the end of the hall. He tried knocking on the door, but when he wasn’t heard, he turned the handle; the door creaked open and voices spilled out.

It was easy to pick Phasma out of the crowd. She stood an impressive six-feet-three-inches tall and had platinum blond hair cut in a severe and short angled bob. She had on a striking cream-colored pantsuit today, with a red shirt under the blazer. She was writing on a whiteboard, where a number of mugshots were taped.

“Hey, excuse me,” said a young man with dark skin and a smart blue button-down shirt, appearing in Hux’s periphery. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Dr. Armitage—”

“Hux!” Phasma called. In long strides, she came across the room and wrapped him up in a crushing hug. “You made it. Good to see you.”

The young man in the button-down eyed them, clearly unused to this kind of display from Phasma. She was usually very reserved—unless you got a few whiskey sours in her, as Hux remembered from their university years.

“Hello, Phasma,” said Hux, extricating himself from the embrace. “It’s good to see you as well.”

She clapped her hands to call for attention. “Everybody, listen up! This is Dr. Armitage Hux, our new profiler. He went to school with me, and he’s the best.”

Hux hoped he could live up to that. “Good morning,” he offered to the detectives and agents around the room.

“Hi, Dr. Hux,” said the young man still lingering nearby. He had close-cropped black hair, a wide nose, and gave Hux a stunningly bright smile. “I’m Detective Finn Starr, Raleigh PD.”

Hux shook his hand. “A pleasure.”

He had barely released him when Phasma latched onto his left wrist and tugged him toward a few others. There was Detective Rey Jaqumini, Finn’s partner, a few uniformed officers. Last to meet Hux was Special Agent Poe Dameron, Phasma’s partner. He was a few inches shorter than Hux. His hair was thick and black with a bit of a wave. There was just a hint of a shadow on his jaw.

“I’ve actually heard quite a bit about you,” he said in a rich, low voice. “Phasma’s told me some stories about the adventures you two used to have at Arkanis.” He waggled his dark eyebrows. “She thinks very highly of you.”

“I imagine those stories are mostly embarrassing,” Hux said. “But I appreciate her regard.”

Phasma laughed. “Of course you do.” Taking him by the shoulder, she steered him back toward the center of the room, where a large, circular table stood, littered with files and crime scene photos. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Hux set down his briefcase, already drawn in by the photographs. There were three girls, all brunettes and around the same height and petite build—if he was judging it correctly. All of them were lying on their beds, one in a dormitory room decorated with the requisite film and psychedelic posters. She and the others were lying face-up and stripped down to their undergarments, ten clear stab wounds puncturing their torsos and up to their necks. There was very little blood, suggesting they had been killed elsewhere, washed, and posed on their beds.

“This is the first victim,” Phasma said, tapping the corner of a photograph with her red-painted fingernails. “Lucinda Gregory, nineteen, freshman design major from Clark County. Her roommate found her on January fourteenth after having been out at her boyfriend’s apartment for the night. She came back to the dorm at around nine in the morning. According to liver temperature, the medical examiner reckoned Lucinda had been dead for around eleven hours by then. That puts her time of death—”

“Between eight and midnight,” Hux said. “What did they find in the autopsy?”

“The only drug in her system was some Midol,” said Phasma. “Otherwise she was clean. There was some bruising around her neck. The assailant probably choked her at some point—maybe to get control of her.”

“Was he waiting for her in the room while she was out?” Hux asked.

Phasma sat at the edge of the table, displacing a file, which Dameron deftly caught. “That’s what we’re thinking. Some friends of hers said she liked to study late on Friday nights when the library was quiet, so it wouldn’t have been impossible for the assailant to get into the room to attack her when she got back.”

Lying in wait for a victim suggested a long period of premeditation, likely weeks of stalking and learning the victim’s habits and the peculiarities of the dormitory before actually carrying out the murder.

“What kind of security does the building have?” said Hux.

“It’s swipe card access only,” Phasma replied. “Students can sign in a guest from the hours of ten in the morning to eight in the evening. All guests have to sign a pass and leave the building by ten o’clock.”

“Not many people abide by that rule,” Dameron said. “According to the students in the building, boyfriends and girlfriends often stay the night without consequences.”

“Not surprising,” Hux said, having once been an undergraduate in the dormitories himself. “So, do we know when Lucinda left the room?”

Dameron produced a piece of paper with a typewritten timeline on it. “This is our best guess. She had class until three o’clock in the afternoon and then went to the dining hall with her friend Alexa from three-thirty to five. They had mac and cheese and milkshakes.”

Hux grimaced, looking down at the paper. It seemed that after their indulgence in dairy, Lucinda went to the library to study. There was only Alexa’s account to go off of, but it seemed reasonable enough. If Lucinda remained there until around nine or nine-thirty, it would have given the killer more than enough time to get a guest pass to the dormitory.

“How did the assailant get into Lucinda’s room?” Hux asked. “Are they not card-access as well?”

Phasma shook her head. “Old-fashioned keys on a keychain. One for each roommate. It looks like the killer picked the lock.”

“He had to have been fast,” said Dameron. “There are always students coming and going in a dorm. He would have been spotted pretty easily.”

“He’s practiced, then,” Hux said. “I would think that he’s been doing this for at least two or three years. Picking locks, anyway. He’s likely been stalking women, too, if he never confronted them or acted on his impulse to kill. It’s something that takes time to build up to murder.” He pulled the photograph closer to see the details of the girl’s body. “Was there any sexual assault?”

“No, thankfully,” Phasma said. “Aside from the bruises around the neck and the stab wounds, there are no other signs of physical abuse on any of the victims.”

The lack of a sexual element was interesting. Many stalkers were attracted to their victims and took advantage before they killed them, if they even went that far. This was clearly a different kind of predator: one who took pleasure in the act of murder more than anything else.

“She wasn’t killed on the bed,” Hux said, “but it had to be somewhere in the room.”

“The girls had an attached private bathroom,” said Dameron. “We hit the shower with Luminol and it lit up like a Christmas tree. He must have killed her there and then cleaned up the mess and her body before bringing her to the bed.”

“He has respect for them, then,” Hux said. “A kind of remorse after the fact. He wouldn’t clean them up if he had no feelings for them. And the posing must be significant. Maybe some kind of past trauma—the death of the mother or sister in their bedroom. But that’s just a first guess.”

“It’s a good one,” Phasma said. “More than we had to go on before. Explore more of that and see what you come up with.”

Hux asked, “What about the other victims? Were they killed the same way?”

Phasma passed him the other photographs. “Pretty much, yes. Both lived with roommates off campus. I think the dorm posed a big challenge for him and he didn’t want to risk that again.”

“A fair assessment,” Hux said. “I assume the crime scenes have been turned back over to the occupants?”

“One of them,” said Dameron, “but the latest is just a week old. It’s still cordoned off.” He asked, “Did you want to look at it?”

It likely wouldn’t make a difference—there were enough photographs, and he was profiling the killer, not necessarily assessing the evidence—but he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to see the scene firsthand.

“Not immediately,” he said, “but perhaps later? Could a visit this afternoon be arranged?”

Dameron nodded. “Sure.” To Detective Starr: “Hey, Finn, can you keep the place clear for one more day?”

“Sure thing, Poe.”

“So,” said Phasma to Hux, “what do you need from us to get started?”

Hux surveyed the chaos of the table and all the people filling the room. “Is there a place I can work in quiet?” he asked in reply. “I find it’s easier to concentrate on my own.”

“Of course, Dr. Hux,” said Detective Jaqumini—Rey. “There’s a room across the hall that you can use.”

“Excellent,” he said. “I think I’ll take the files for the victims and read them over.”

“Grab what you need now,” Dameron said, “and I’ll bring the rest over to you in a couple of minutes.”

“Thank you very much,” said Hux as he gathered up to files on Lucinda Gregory. Rey led him to a quiet space directly across the hall, where he took up a table and spread the papers and photographs out. From his briefcase, he pulled his legal pads for making notes. He sat down, ready to pore over the files.

He was just beginning to read when his stomach turned. It wasn’t outright nausea, but more of a twinge. Kylo Ren was standing beside him, looking down at the files.

“Looks like a pretty bad case there, Doc.”

Hux stared at him in complete shock. He was still wearing the orange prison trousers and white shirt, but his hair was pulled back into a half-tail at the back of his head. He seemed at ease despite the fact that he was over a hundred miles away from Alderaan State Penitentiary and the municipal cemetery.

“Kylo,” Hux managed after a moment. “W-What are you doing here?”

Ren pressed his lips together as he searched for how to reply. “Well, I was just killing time in the morgue—pun not intended—and I got fed up, so I, uh, figured I’d have a look for you again.”

Hux continued to blink at him, stunned. “This is unprecedented,” he said. “I’ve never encountered a spirit who’s lingered as long as you have, or one who was able to travel. I have no idea what to make of this.”

“And I know less than you, Doc,” said Ren. “This whole afterlife thing is a mystery to me.”

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose. He would absolutely have to contact Maz at this point, maybe even go to her shop in Durham to see her in person. In the meantime, he really shouldn’t have Ren tagging along with him wherever he went, even if it seemed that Ren was determined to do just that.

“So,” Ren said, “you’re here to consult, right? How’s it going?”

“I just got here,” said Hux curtly. “I’ve just been familiarizing myself with the victim profiles.”

Ren leaned over the table to look at the photograph of Lucinda. “Pretty girl. It’s a shame what happened to her.”

Once again, Ren appeared to be genuinely sorry for a loss of life, which seemed wholly out of character for a multiple murderer.

“It is, yes,” Hux said. “And the others, too. I hope we can stop him before he kills again.”

Ren hummed, still appraising the pictures and files. Hux let him look, watching him in turn. He seemed curious but not overly affected by the evidence, which lent Hux to believe he was used to seeing death. But Hux couldn’t help but think of his psychological profiles, which claimed he was nonviolent. If he hadn’t said last night that he was so averse to having his mind analyzed, Hux might have wanted to do an assessment himself.

Hux cleared his throat. “I really have to get to work. And”—he glanced toward the door—“someone is going to bring me more files shortly. I, ah, shouldn’t be caught talking with you where others can listen.”

“Right,” Ren said. “But they can’t see me?”

“No.” Hux wanted to insist that Ren leave him be, but somehow it seemed unduly rude. Ren had been nothing but polite to him since they had met. “If you want to stay,” Hux said, “you can, but keep quiet until the files arrive.”

Ren inclined his head. “Can do, Doc. Mind if I sit?” He laid a transparent hand over the back of the chair next to Hux’s. Hux pulled it out for him and he took his place on it.

Hux returned to the casefile, beginning at the uniformed officer’s notes, as she had been the first on the scene. He was just getting to the initial detectives’ assessments when Special Agent Dameron came in with a well-used box full of file folders.

“Here you go, Dr. Hux,” he said as he set the box down beside him. “Everything should be in there. If you need something else from us, though, don’t hesitate to holler.” He flashed Hux a winning grin. Hux took note of the way the smile looked on him, earnest but ever-so-slightly forward—flirtatious. Hux’s gut tightened from an entirely different sensation.

Oh no, that wasn’t going to work. Hux could _not_ become infatuated with Phasma’s partner, no matter how pretty he was.

“Thank you very much, Special Agent D—”

“Please, call me Poe,” Dameron said. He set his hand on the table, leaning infinitesimally closer to Hux. “Can I maybe call you Armitage?”

Hux drew in a short breath—which turned out to be a mistake; he could smell Poe’s woodsy cologne. “I prefer my surname, though you can leave off the title.”

“Hux is it, then,” Poe said. “I’ll leave you to work, but, like I said, holler if you need something.”

Hux thanked him again as he left the room.

“Pretty smooth operator right there,” said Ren from Hux’s opposite side. “You could practically smell the fuck-me pheromones pouring off of him. And it looks like you were right on the hook, Doc.”

Hux turned to him, frowning. “I certainly was not.”

Ren snorted. “Uh-huh, you tell yourself that. I wouldn’t trust someone that slick, though. He’ll probably play you.”

“That’s quite an assumption based on a three-minute conversation,” Hux said.

Ren shrugged. “I’ve seen his kind before. He’s hot and he knows how to use that to get into guys’ pants.” He looked Hux up and down, examining. “Can’t say I blame him for trying to get into yours, though.”

Hux could feel heat in his face, and he tried to play affront to draw attention from it. “I beg your pardon.”

Ren laughed. “Come on, you’ve got a whole whip-smart ginger thing going on. You’ve got to have men lining up.”

“I...do not, no,” Hux muttered, casting his eyes down despite his efforts at feigning nonchalance. “I haven’t seen anyone in quite some time.” He wasn’t exactly embarrassed, but he didn’t find it easy to meet Ren’s gaze, either. As he stared at his lap, he saw two ghostly hands come to rest on his knees. He didn’t feel the touch at all.

“Hux,” Ren said. The name rumbled; Ren’s voice was deeper and darker than Poe’s. “You know you never told me your name. That’s why I just called you ‘Doc.’”

Hux turned his face up to find Ren’s maybe eight inches away, his expression soft.

“Anyway, if nobody’s appreciated you in ‘quite some time,’ let me just tell you right now that that Poe guy does, and so do I.” Ren gave him a half-smile. “If I weren’t...like this, I’d have made my move already, before _Special Agent_ Poe can make his.”

Hux had no idea how to respond. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and twice in the space of ten minutes was rather overwhelming. Ren seemed to sense his discomfort and drew away, sitting back in his chair.

“Sorry, Doc,” he said. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“You didn’t,” Hux said, only half a lie.

Ren didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. “Okay. You should get to work, right?”

Hux sat up straighter, focusing back on the papers and photographs. “Yes, I should.” He wanted to say that he did his best work alone, but, somehow, he thought that Ren wouldn’t be a distraction. “Would you care to read one of the files?” he asked.

Ren said, “Sure.”

Hux slid the folder for the third victim over to him and laid out the first few pages. “Just tell me when you want to turn a page.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Doc.”

Hux left him to his reading and delved into his own, ready to make notes.

 

* * *

 

The most recent victim, Emily Roberts, had an apartment just east of North Carolina State University’s campus, right on the bus line. It was a townhouse she shared with two other junior girls. Her roommate Alicia had found her body in her bed a week ago. The roommates had been staying with friends since the murder and were planning to move out as soon as the scene was released to them again.

Hux, Phasma, and Poe drove in their sleek, government-issue sedan to the building, parking outside by the baking concrete sidewalk. The door wasn’t marked with crime scene tape anymore—a little to Hux’s disappointment—but it was clear the house wasn’t occupied. Venetian blinds were drawn over the windows and there were a few letters sticking out of an overstuffed mailbox in front of the stairs that led to the front door.

Poe unlocked the police padlock on the door before using the silver house keys to enter. Inside it was dim and smelled vaguely of the kind of sticky, manufactured air freshener one could buy at the grocery store. A little vial of the stuff, with its electric diffuser, was plugged into the outlet in the entryway as they passed through it and by the kitchen to where the master bedroom was. Here was the yellow tape and the fingerprint dust-covered tables and doorknobs.

“This is where she was,” said Phasma, stopping at the threshold to peer into the room. “She was posed on the bed like the others: legs extended and pressed together, toes pointed. Her hands were at her sides and she was wearing only a red lace bra and matching panties. From what we could tell, they were her best pair.”

“He clearly cared about making her presentable, then,” Hux said. “Again: remorse and concern with the presentation. This has great significance to him. She was totally clean?”

Poe replied, “The medical examiner said she had been washed with antibacterial surgical soap, the kind they give you before you go under the knife. So, maybe a doctor or nurse?”

It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but there was no hospital attached to this college—though perhaps there was the student health clinic, which would be a good hunting ground for a stalker.

“Do you have suspects from a local hospital?” Hux asked.

“Not at the moment,” Phasma replied. “We’ll go over the suspects a little later. We’ve got a few, but we can’t pin all the murders on any one person. It’s frustrating, to say the least.”

Hux hummed in acknowledgement, but his attention was on the clues around the room. He had brought with him a few pictures from the scene, which he used for reference as he looked around. Emily had either been very tidy or the killer had straightened up the room after the murder.

“Were all the scenes this orderly?” he said.

“The first two were messier people, if that’s what you mean,” said Poe. “There were clothes on the floor and products all over the bathroom. But the sheets have hospital corners.” He went to the bedside, but didn’t touch the linens. “Again, suggests a nurse.”

“Or someone who works in the hospitality industry,” Hux said. “Or even someone in the military.” He thought briefly of Ren, who had no doubt learned to make a bed with precision during his time in the Marines.

“Jeez, Hux,” Poe said. “You’re really throwing everyone into the mix.”

Hux turned toward the ensuite, saying as he went, “I rule no one out yet, but clearly the neatly made bed is pathological, necessary for the ritual of the killing. He values that greatly.”

The bathroom was also fairly ordered, even if the counters were filled with various creams and makeup and hair products. There were a few globs of dried toothpaste gel in the sink and the faucet was far from shining, but it wasn’t much worse than Hux’s apartment bathroom had been when he shared it with three roommates during university. The shower stall, though, was immaculate, not a trace of soap scum or discoloration.

“He scrubbed this after he washed her,” Hux said. He sniffed. “And bleached it?”

“That’s right,” said Phasma. “Looks like he brought his own supplies, since we didn’t find cleaner or bleach in the house. He definitely has a ritual.”

“Serves a purpose, too,” Poe said. “He doesn’t leave any trace other than what the Luminol lights up. It’s almost professional.”

“He’s been practicing,” Hux said. “This isn’t someone who’s just started killing. This is years’ worth of training and preparation.”

Phasma sighed heavily, her face falling. “I was afraid of that.”

Hux pursed his lips. “Well, it’s not impossible that he’s only killed once before as a rehearsal and then put this plan into motion, but I tend to think he’s an older man, which gives him a great deal of time to work up to this level of meticulousness.”

“How old?” Poe asked.

“I can’t say for certain after so little background,” Hux replied, “but I’d say at least thirties, if not older.”

Phasma produced a notebook from her pocket a scribbled down a few lines. “What do you think about him physically? These girls are petite but not insubstantial. He has to be able to subdue and then carry them from between bathroom and bedroom.”

“The tallest girl is, what, five-foot-six?” said Hux. “She’s slim, so maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds. If he’s an older man, he’s had time to come into his strength. He’s got to be unhindered by a physical disability. He could be anywhere from the same height to above six feet. But I would suspect if he’s fairly unassuming and goes mostly unnoticed in neighborhoods like these while he surveils his victims, he’s white and of average height and build. Likely around five-nine, but I can’t guarantee that.”

“All right,” Phasma mumbled as she wrote. “We’ll give more thought to that, but he’s a clever bastard.”

Strangely, Ren’s case came to mind again. His killings had been stabbings, too, and with eight to ten wounds. All the victims had been left in the bathroom with the shower on; no clean-up other than what the water washed away. But the similarities were there and now Hux couldn’t unsee them. He said nothing about it, however.

“There was really no evidence left behind?” he asked. “No prints in the carpet or trace carried in from his shoes?”

Poe shook his head forlornly. “The floor hadn’t been vacuumed in weeks, probably. We have no idea what the girls brought in and what the killer might have. And everything else was squeaky clean and unmarked.”

Hux gave the bathroom a last look before stepping toward the bedroom again. Phasma and Poe moved out of his way, but nearly collided with his back as he stopped stock-still a pace out of the bathroom. This time there was no turn of his stomach as he spotted Ren sitting on the dead girl’s bed, watching Hux and the agents, nonplussed.

“Hey, Doc,” he said.

Hux didn’t move, didn’t speak. He knew Phasma and Poe could not see Ren. “Ah,” Hux said to them, “might I have a few minutes to look over the scene alone? If that’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all,” said Phasma. “We’ll just wait outside. I have a couple of calls to make.”

Hux thanked them as they headed out. When they were gone, he shut the bedroom door behind them. “Kylo,” he hissed, rounding on him, “this is _not_ the time for a visit.”

Ren had gotten up and sauntered over to Hux. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I haven’t gotten out much since I went into prison.”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation,” Hux admonished. “I cannot have you leering at crime scenes while I’m working.”

“I’m not ‘leering,’” Ren said, his expression darkening. “I don’t get off on this, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hux hadn’t quite thought of that, but he was certain there were some killers who would. “I wasn’t implying that,” he said. “Having you here is just not appropriate. I have people to talk to and tasks to do…” He trailed off, exasperated. “What do you want, anyway?”

“Just to have a look around,” Ren replied. “You have to admit you live a pretty interesting life. Can’t blame me for being curious.”

Hux rubbed a hand over his face, searching for the patience to deal with his tagalong ghost. “You really have nothing better to do, do you?”

Ren slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers—they were jeans, Hux noted, not the orange prison-issued ones. His white t-shirt was gone, too, replaced with a black henley. He appeared bigger and broader in casual clothes, but much more at-home. Hux could imagine him with his electrician’s toolkit as he fiddled with wiring in an old house like Hux’s. Ten years ago, he might have passed for a college student, in his battered jeans and boots, maybe with a few novels under his arm—Faulkner, his favorite.

“I don’t,’ said Ren. “The only other place I can go is this kind of gray nowhere.”

Hux raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t heard of another realm outside of the nebulous “other side.” He asked, “When you aren’t here, you’re there?”

Ren nodded. “And there’s nothing really there, so I’d rather be here.” One side of his mouth turned up slyly. “And the company is better.”

“Hardly,” Hux scoffed.

Ren disregard him, changing the subject: “So, this is where the latest girl was killed? The Roberts girl?”

Hers had been the file he had been reading back at the police station.

“Yes,” Hux said. “It was done carefully and a great deal of care was taken in the clean-up.” He watched Ren closely for any reaction.

“Did she suffer?” Ren asked.

Hux drew in a breath, unsure what to say. “It seems that the killer choked her out first, so it’s unlikely she was aware when she was stabbed.”

Ren chewed his lower lip in a kind of remorseful contemplation. “Small favors, I guess.”

“Yes,” Hux murmured.

“It’s a little unsettling, you know,” Ren said. “This guy does things a lot like...well, a lot like what I allegedly did.”

“‘Allegedly?’” said Hux.

Ren met his eyes without hesitation, a hard look that was far more severe than any he had turned on Hux before. “I know you’ve seen the evidence and you won’t believe me,” he said, “but I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill those girls.”

Hux didn’t say anything immediately, but didn’t glance away. Ren appeared sincere, even if the evidence was stacked against him.

“I know it’s out-there,” Ren continued. “Trust me, I know, but somebody framed me for it. And he did a good job, too.”

“If that’s the case,” said Hux, “he did an _excellent_ job. Your conviction was fairly airtight—”

“I remember,” Ren snarled. “I was there in the courtroom. But I swear to God, Hux—on my grandfather’s grave and all that—I didn’t do it. I’m not a killer.” He gestured around the room. “Not like this guy. I’m not a—not a monster.”

He was agitated and passionate, his voice raised. Hux watched him pace up and down next to the victim’s bed in long strides. Physically, he was more than capable of overpowering the women he was accused of killing, and he _had_ killed enemy combatants in the Middle East during his tenure in the Marines. The prosecution had reminded the jury of that during his trial and suggested that his tendencies for bloodshed had just been translated to civilian life. But the psychologists, again, had insisted he didn’t take pleasure in those enemy deaths; he had just been doing his job and protecting his fellow soldiers and his own life.

“I’m not calling you that,” Hux said stridently, though he had referred to the other men he had interviewed as such before.

Ren stopped and turned to face him. His expression was desolate, mouth turned down in a cheerless bow. “I don’t want you to think I’m like that,” he said quietly. “Everything you’ve heard says you should—that I’m just lying to get in good with you—but I mean it. I don’t want to be a killer to you. I want you to…” He hung his head. “I’m kidding myself about this.”

Hux took a careful step toward him. Had he been here in the flesh, he might have stayed away, but in his spirit form, he was of no danger. “You want me to what?” he asked.

Ren said, “I want you to like me.”

Hux let his surprise show, and Ren laughed icily.

“See?” Ren said. “I’m delusional. I should just go and let you work.” He backed up half a pace, but Hux called, “Wait,” and he stopped.

“You’re putting me in a difficult position,” Hux began carefully. “All my training and what I’ve read about you dictates that I should by no means trust you.” Ren scowled, so Hux pressed on: “ _But_ there _are_ some holes in your case that I’ve seen—little quirks that the jury bought but could be called into question.” He sighed. “I can’t say I will take your word completely; however, I don’t wholly disbelieve you, either. And, well, I do find myself enjoying your company.”

Ren blinked once—slowly, thoughtfully—and then he began to smile, ever so slightly. “I guess that’s not so bad.”

Hux offered a smile in return, but then said sternly, “You still shouldn’t be poking around my crime scenes while Phasma and Poe—or anyone else—are around, but when I’m free I don’t mind you coming around. And”—he rubbed his hands together to let the thought simmer before he spoke—“I’m not far from Maz’s shop. I can go visit her in the next few days and inquire about your peculiar case.”

“I’d appreciate that, Doc,” Ren said. “I guess I’ll get going, then, but you don’t mind if I see you later?”

“No, I don’t mind,” said Hux.

Ren’s smile was bigger and brighter this time. “It’s a date,” he said, and winked out of the room.

Hux deflated, covering his face with a hand. “‘A date,’” he mumbled. “Good God.” He started at a knock on the door.

“You all right, Hux?” Phasma asked.

He hastened to the door and swung it open. “Yes, I’m quite finished.”

“Good,” she said. “The cleaners are coming tonight. We need to get out of here.” Poe was lingering in the hall behind her, and she hitched a thumb back at him. “We were thinking of getting something to eat. Want to join?”

“Certainly,” Hux said.

The restaurant they chose was a Mexican place where the hostess seated them in a colorful booth next to a mural of a woman in traditional dress. Phasma ordered a margarita on the rocks and Poe a beer, but Hux had only water. They picked away at a basket of freshly fried corn chips and salsa while they waited for their food.

“This seems like an interesting town,” Poe said as he sipped at his dark beer. “I’ve never been down to Carolina before.”

“He grew up in Portland,” said Phasma. “Only came to the east coast to go to the Academy.”

Phasma herself was from Connecticut, having grown up on a wealthy family estate where they raised show jumping horses. She had a number of national championships under her belt, but had given it all up to come south to university at Arkanis. The school was prestigious, but her parents had been scandalized when she decided on the FBI.

“I like this part of the country,” Poe laughed. “Or at least I’m getting used to it. Where do you hail from, Hux?”

Hux told him the story of his father’s decision to move to the United States and his less-than-glamorous high school career in Fayetteville. At least he had managed to get out of the military town and attend Arkanis. He went back to visit his father once or twice a year, but neither of them were particularly family-oriented.

“But you bought a place in Pittsboro?” Poe asked. “How far is that from here?”

“I inherited the house,” Hux replied. “It was my godmother’s before she passed away. I didn’t have a residence, so I decided to take it instead of selling. And it’s about an hour’s drive away. It’s not exactly in the _country,_ but it’s quiet.”

Poe smiled, leaning on his arms on the table. “Sounds nice. Is it a big place?”

“Four bedrooms,” said Hux. “Far too big for one person, but I’m fond of it. It sits on ten acres of woodlands. I have a service that takes care of the gardening when I’m away.”

“I want to come visit,” Phasma said. “If you’ve got all the space Poe can come along, too.”

Hux could imagine them staying in the guest bedrooms and sharing meals on the back porch during the spring. It was a rather idyllic notion. “I’d very much like that,” he said.

“It’s a date, then,” said Poe.

Hux kept his expression neutral, but barely. Ren’s use of that phrase had been just as openly flirtatious as Poe’s and Hux was reeling. He was not accustomed to this in the least.

“Dameron, you are such a tease,” Phasma said, shoving his shoulder. “You’re _already_ hitting on him. I knew he was just your type, but—”

Hux cleared his throat loudly as he struggled not to flush. “I think it was just a friendly joke, Phasma.”

Poe chuckled. “Well, it was and it wasn’t.” He shrugged one shoulder, attention on Hux. “I mean, I wouldn’t object to a date, if you were amenable.”

“There it is,” said Phasma. “I absolutely called this.”

Hux was floundering for a reply. “I...ah, well…”

Poe said, “You don’t have to answer now, but just think it over, maybe?”

Hux nodded.

Shortly after, their dinner arrived and conversation turned to the case. They rehashed what they had in the casefiles and Phasma alluded to the kinds of suspects they had. She said they would go over them in the morning when they were back at the police station operations room. Poe picked up the tab for the food, saying he could expense it, and then drove them back to the station for Hux to pick up his car. He had a room booked at a DoubleTree down the road, courtesy of the FBI. He checked in with the bubbly girl at reception and was given the key to room 311. There, he dropped his suitcase on the folding luggage rack and then fell back onto the bed.

It had been an exhausting day—nonstop from the time he left Vera’s to now: eight o’clock. He hadn’t realized how much it had taken out of him. Staring up at the ceiling, he exhaled and tried to muster the last of his energy to get up and take a quick shower. He wasn’t feeling dirty _per se_ , but he had a kind of crime scene funk that made him want to wash up.

He paused to unpack the soft pajama trousers he wore at night and an oversized t-shirt he had gotten at a 5k race a few years ago when they had run out of his size. He took both and his shaving kit into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The water was almost scalding, but he didn’t turn it down. He scrubbed his body until his skin was pink and then stood with his face turned up into the spray.

His mind wandered some over the crimes, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. Instead, he tried to clear his thoughts with his nightly ritual. He usually waited until he was in bed to bring himself off, but now was as good a time as any. Closing his eyes, he conjured up a favorite fantasy—being caught running on the trail by his home by a handsome, almost featureless stranger, who would pull him into the shade of a tree and go down on him—and began to stroke himself to hardness.

Hux had never really had a type when it came to partners, but the stranger was usually a lean runner like himself. Tonight, though, he was tall and broad-shouldered, in a beat-up sweatshirt with the faded crest of Arkanis University on it. None of Hux’s college boyfriends had had that build, but he didn’t question it; he just envisioned himself pushed against the trunk of a large tree while the stranger tugged at the waistband of Hux’s track pants. As he sank down to his knees, Hux put his hand into his hair—thick and dark, cut just above his shoulders. Hux usually kept his gaze trained on the canopy of high summer leaves above him while the stranger did his work, but at this moment, he looked down at him. There was Kylo Ren, his lips stretched around Hux’s cock as he took him deep into his mouth.

Hux should have been appalled, but Ren’s brown eyes were fixed on him from his place on his knees, eagerness and a bit of his humor in them. In his mind’s eye, Hux pulled tighter at Ren’s hair, pushing him down on his cock. In the shower, Hux groaned, pressing his forehead to the warm tiles. His hand moved swiftly over himself, a poor substitute for Ren’s mouth, but it was good enough. As he imagined Ren sucking enthusiastically, he could feel the climax building in his lower belly and tingling up his back.

To his horror, as he came, spilling over his fingers, he said, “Oh, _yes_ , _Kylo_.”

The shower washed away his spend, but the pictures stuck in his mind and the guilt and disgust came crashing down on him. He had just gotten off—hard and well—to the thought of a man he might have interviewed as a murderer sucking him off. He hadn’t even thought himself overly attracted to him, but apparently the interest was there, buried deep in his subconscious.

“Christ,” he muttered, leaning against the shower wall. How exactly was he going to look at Ren again after this incident?

He turned the water off and quickly grabbed his towel. He felt better, as he always did after a wank, but his skin still crawled a little. Slipping into his pajamas, he went out of the bathroom.

“Hi, Doc.”

Hux jumped, barely stifling a shocked cry. Ren was sitting in the plush chair by the window, his legs spread and arms on the rests, taking up all the available space.

“God above,” Hux said when he had recovered his voice. “ _Do not_ scare me like that.”

“Sorry,” said Ren. “I just thought you wanted me. You said my name.”

Hux blanched, wide-eyed with dismay. “You heard that?”

Ren nodded. “I sure did. Seemed like you were really interested in having me around.” He seemed perfectly calm and unaffected, but there was mischief behind it. He drummed his fingers on the ends of the armrests. “Something the matter, Doc?”

“No,” Hux said, too quickly. “I mean, I was just considering...ah, I just thought we might talk a bit more about the case.”

“Right,” said Ren. “The case.”

Hux was shaking with shame, but he managed to get over to his briefcase and make a show of pulling out the files. “I was thinking about the placement of the wounds. They’re done with incredible precision, which rather supports the theory that the perpetrator is in the medical profession. And there are other clues to that, too.”

“You mean the soap and the hospital corners?” Ren asked.

Hux shot him a look. “You were listening to that even if you weren’t in the room at the time?”

“Yeah. I can keep an eye on things even when I’m not around. Must be a perk of this limbo thing.”

Hux was horrified to even consider that Ren had actually heard or _seen_ him masturbating in the shower. He tried not to think about it, saying, “It seems a good theory, don’t you think?”

Ren shrugged. “Makes decent sense, yeah.”

“Yes,” Hux mused. “Perhaps someone from the student clinic. That would be a good place to start.” He took out his legal pad and jotted down some ideas. “If there’s nothing there, we can start checking hospitals. Though maybe it’s someone who had a medical license and lost it…”

“Do you ever take a break, Doc?” Ren said.

Hux cocked an eyebrow at him over his notes. “In the middle of a pressing case like this? I should think it takes priority. And I enjoy this work, I’m discovering.”

Ren rose slowly, making Hux aware of his size; he was bigger than he had been in Hux’s fantasy: just two inches taller than Hux, but so much larger. “Well, that’s good. But you should probably relax a little and get some rest.” He held up his hands. “I used to give a pretty good massage.”

Hux all but choked. He did not need to imagine Ren’s hands on him in any other way than he already had. “Thank you, but no.”

“Fine,” said Ren. “Why don’t you at least sit down a little. Did you bring _The Sound and the Fury_?”

Hux had; it was in his suitcase. “You want me to read a novel right now?”

“Is that so bad?” Ren asked, coming up to stand across from him. “Take a break. Really.”

Hux sighed, but had to admit that a chapter or two of the book sounded appealing. “All right,” he said. “I’ll read a little.”

“Let me read it,” said Ren.

Hux’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”

Ren replied, “I’m good at reading out loud. I used to do it for my grandmother when she was in the hospital. I can do a bunch of different voices.” He grinned. “Come on, Doc, let me read to you.”

Hux was baffled, but found himself agreeing: “All right.” He retrieved the book and took it to the chair by the window. He pulled the desk chair over beside it and sat in that.

“No, you take the comfortable one,” Ren said. “It’s not like I can feel it anyway.”

They switched places, Hux settling into the chair. He opened the book to the page he had left off and held it out for Ren to see.

“Oh, this is a good part,” Ren said. He laid his hand on the page, but it didn’t stir under his touch. “Okay, here we go.”

He had a steady, smooth voice and he never missed or stumbled over a word. He could indeed do different voices, which was rather impressive. Hux turned the pages for him when it was required. Hux slipped into the narrative, unsure that he could go back to just reading the book silently after having it brought to such vivid life. An hour passed and then thirty minutes again, until it was after ten and Hux was yawning.

As Kylo finished a chapter, he said, “That’s enough for now. Get some shuteye. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Hux went to the bed and turned down the sheets. “Thank you for the company tonight, Kylo.”

Ren inclined his head. “Sleep well, Doc.”

 

* * *

 

The array of suspects the task force had so far put forward was quite a disappointment. Hux had met Phasma, Poe, and Detectives Rey and Finn this morning after a brief breakfast in the hotel restaurant. They had been running him through their list all day, picking apart the various alibis and traits the men possessed. Most already had rap sheets a mile long, some having spent time in prison for assault before, but none of them matched the kind of profile Hux was building. They were all too young, to start—almost all in their early twenties—and none of them had any stalking charges. It was possible, of course, that the killer was a clever stalker and had never been caught, but maybe there was at least one restraining order in his past.

“What about DeNofrio?” Poe asked, pointing to the mugshot of heavyset man with a thick black mustache. “He’s got some priors for assault with a deadly weapon: a knife.”

“Yes, a switchblade,” said Hux. “Not anything like our current perp. He used the same long blade for all his crimes. The medical examiner says it’s eight inches long and likely has a very sharp blade, like a hollow ground edge.”

“What’s that?” Finn asked.

“A type of sharpening style,” Hux replied. “Created by grinding just below the mid-point of the blade to form concave sides that come to a very thin cutting edge. It’s brittle and easily dulled, but excellent for fine cutting with precision. It’s a kitchen knife he uses and not a hunting or other utility blade.” He made a point to add: “Not a medical instrument.”

The medical theory had been called into question several times already that day, though the use of the surgical soap still suggested a healthcare background. Finn and Rey would be spending the afternoon interviewing employees at the campus medical center. Phasma was hopeful, but Hux was not as convinced. Still, he wasn’t writing off the possibility until they had identified any potential suspects at the clinic.

“Well, that’s DeNofrio crossed off, then,” Poe grumbled. He took down the man’s mugshot and tossed it into a box full of too many other files. With an exhale, he sat against the table, arms crossed over his chest. “So, what now?”

“We wait for new suspects,” said Phasma. “You and I can go over to the clinic today, too.” She glanced at Hux. “You want to come along?”

“I don’t think so,” Hux replied. “I would like to have a chance to look at the notes you take before I delve into them. And”—he shifted his weight back slightly, guiltily—“I was hoping to take the afternoon off. I have an errand to run in Durham.”

After Kylo had gone last night, Hux had lain awake for a few minutes considering what to do about him. It was getting critical that he speak to Maz.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Phasma said. “We don’t need you, so you’re free to go.”

Poe laughed. “We’re not his keepers, Phas.”

She narrowed her eyes. “While he’s working for us, we are.” Softer, and to Hux: “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I understand. I won’t be speaking to anyone about the case, either. I should be back by this evening if you have anything to discuss with me about your interviews.”

“We’ll call you if we need you,” she said.

Dismissed, Hux gathered up his briefcase and headed for the door. It was raining, bringing the temperature down a little. He jogged out to his car, where his umbrella was waiting. The drive to Durham was only about forty minutes, and it wasn’t rush hour; there shouldn’t be any delays.

Maz’s shop was downtown across from a newly built specialty grocery store, evidence of the widespread gentrification of the city. It had been a laundromat during Hux’s years at university. He parked in a pay-by-the-hour lot nearby and, taking his umbrella, set off down the street. The bell on the door of the shop tinkled pleasantly as he entered, and immediately he was overcome with the scent of incense and drying herbs.

“Well, if it isn’t Armitage Hux,” said Maz from where she was organizing focusing crystals on a table near the center of the shop. A handwritten sign above it proclaimed a fifty percent sale. “I thought I might be seeing you sometime soon.”

Hux collapsed his umbrella, saying, “Hello, Maz. I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been to visit.”

She waved him off with a wrinkled hand. “No bother. I just had a recent feeling you were going to come in. Something’s going on with you.”

“As always, you have incredible intuition,” said Hux. “I have a bit of a problem—well, it’s not really a problem. Let’s call it an unusual circumstance. Can we talk?”

“Flip the sign and come on back,” she said.

Hux turned the wooden sign on the door to “closed” and followed her through the familiar purple velvet curtain into the back room, where she had first talked to him about his ability to see spirits. He anticipated that she already knew he was bringing her something to do with that.

As she put on tea, Maz asked, “What’s going on?”

Hux set his things down by the table, then took a seat. In as frank terms as possible, he explained the situation with Ren. The only thing he held back was his interlude in the shower the night before. The tea water had finished boiling by the time he was done and he had an aromatic mug in front of him.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

Maz steepled her fingers under her pert chin, contemplative. “It’s most unusual, I’ll give you that, but not wholly unheard of.”

“Go on,” Hux said.

“Well, there’s lore about spirits who attach themselves to the living,” she began. “It’s rare, but it’s been said to happen when a spirit isn’t ready to cross over—like being taken from the world too early. Your Kylo could be one of these. Maybe it wasn’t his time.”

“Perhaps,” Hux said, “but why would he choose me?”

Maz gave him a wry look. “Nobody else can see him, boy.” Hux opened his mouth to concede that, but she stopped him. “But that’s not the only reason. Why don’t we ask him?”

“How?”

Maz slid out of her chair and went to retrieve her grimoire from the bookshelf. “There are a few tricks I know. Summoning spells.”

Hux glanced at the leather-bound book, its spine cracked with use. “Do we need that? He said last night that he could hear me when I called him. Could I not just ask him to...manifest?”

“This will compel him,” Maz replied. “And it should allow me to hear him, if not see him.” She didn’t have Hux’s gift, but if she could hear Ren through this ritual, that was at least something.

Hux abandoned his tea and joined her at the small altar she kept at the corner of the room. She took time to light the thick black and purple candles before setting her grimoire in the stand beside a copper bowl. The page she flipped to was covered in archaic symbols Hux couldn’t make out, but she seemed able to read them. Maz took a few herbs from the jars in the cabinet under the altar, including something that looked like coal ash, lavender, and a strong-smelling sprig of pine.

“You don’t have anything that belonged to him, do you?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Hux replied. “Is that necessary?”

“No. If the spirit is tied strongly enough to you, he’ll come when called.” She put all of the herbs into the bowl and struck a match. When she dropped it into the bowl, a tongue of green flame shot up then disappeared. Maz murmured a few words before speaking clearly: “Kylo Ren, we bid you come to us. I hereby bind you to this place until you are released.”

At first, nothing happened, but then a chill of awareness crept down Hux’s spine; they weren’t alone. He turned to the center of the room, where he found Ren standing, looking furious.

“What the hell, Hux?” he demanded. “One minute I’m just minding my own, then a second later I’m yanked here and”—he tried to lift his feet, but couldn’t—“I’m stuck.”

“I’m sorry, Kylo,” Hux said. “My friend Maz needed to be able to speak to you, so we had to, ah, summon you here.”

Kylo scowled, his gaze flicking to Maz. “So, what does she want?”

“To know your business on this plane, spirit,” she said curtly. She faced the space Ren occupied, though Hux knew she couldn’t see him; her focus wasn’t exactly on the correct spot.

“My ‘business?’” Ren said. “I thought you were going to tell _me_ that. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

Maz countered, “On the contrary, I think you know perfectly well.” She gestured to Hux. “I think it has something to do with him.”

Ren crossed his arms, posture defensive. “Do tell,” he grumbled.

Hux wanted to scold him for being hostile, but he wouldn’t have been particularly happy to be _commanded_ to appear, either.

“I can’t offer you any concrete answers, young man,” Maz said. “However, I suspect you have some kind of tie to this realm that’s keeping you from crossin over. I don’t want to call it ‘unfinished business’ since that’s rather cliché, but I believe it’s true. You were taken before you were supposed to be and now you’ve attached yourself to Armitage because you think he can help you.”

“Help him with what?” Hux asked.

Ren said, clearly annoyed, “I’m standing right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not.”

“You’re an interesting creature, Kylo Ren,” said Maz. “No wonder you’re lingering. There’s a great deal of anger in you. Why?”

Ren didn’t reply, instead chewing his cheek.

“Kylo,” Hux said. “This might help us find a way for you to move on.”

“You haven’t figured it out by now?” Ren asked. “I told you yesterday. I’m pissed because I spent years in prison for something I didn’t do. I had a good life before I went inside, and some asshole took that from me. Wouldn’t you be angry?”

Maz hummed, rubbing her chin. “I see. You believe Armitage can right this wrong.”

Hux said to him, “Is that true?”

Ren threw up his arms, once again trying to move from the spot but unable to. “I don’t know, Doc. I didn’t think you’d actually believe me when I said I wasn’t guilty, but maybe I hoped.”

“You’re fond of him, too,” said Maz, a clever little smile on her lips. “Might even fancy him.”

Ren lowered his gaze, a dead giveaway, and Hux had to fight the mix of concern and pleasure. After last night, he certainly knew he was drawn to Ren physically—at least as physically as one could be to a ghost—and he was getting used to his presence in his life. He might even venture that Ren was becoming a friend—one of the only ones Hux had had since university. He had to wonder if that was the impetus, if he was pathetically latching onto someone because had been lonely for several years, but at the same time he couldn’t deny that he genuinely liked Ren, just as Ren had admitted he wished for.

“I want to believe you,” Hux said. “But I can’t take your word alone.”

Ren sighed, giving a small nod. “I know that.”

“The two of you are at an impasse, then,” Maz said. “Kylo, you’re trapped on this plane until you accept that there’s nothing to be done about your situation, and Armitage isn’t pushing you away. There are some spells we might try to sever the link between you—”

“No,” Hux said. Ren lifted his eyes, interested, and, if Hux wasn’t mistaken, a bit grateful. “I’m willing to try and help you. I’ll research your case when I have time, and...if the proof is there, attempt to clear your name.”

“I—” Ren started. “Thank you. You don’t have to.”

“I know,” said Hux. “But I want to.”

Maz rubbed her petite hands together. “Well, it seems you’ll be staying around for a while, Kylo. Your connection to Armitage should hold for the foreseeable future.” She raised an eyebrow. “If it begins to slip, there are things we can do to make it more...permanent.”

Hux and Ren exchanged a look, but said nothing to Maz or to each other.

“Are you going to let me go now?” Ren asked. “I don’t mind staying for tea, but I’d like to sit down.”

Maz chuckled. “You certainly have an attitude.” Going to the altar again, she poured water into the copper bowl. Instantly, Ren disappeared.

Hux kept his eye on the place where he had been; he wondered just what he had gotten himself into.

“You’ve got an admirer, that’s for certain,” Maz said. “He wants your help, but talks like he wants to eat you up. But you’re not sure what to think about that.”

“I’m at a complete loss,” Hux admitted. “Knowing his history, I shouldn’t be interested in him. Not to mention he’s a spirit.”

Maz shrugged. “We can’t control who comes into our lives, and sometimes we can’t control who we’re interested in, either.” She took his hand and patted the back of it. “Let yourself enjoy it for a while, and see what happens.”

“I can’t...get involved,” Hux said sternly. “I’m supposed to be helping him move on.”

“Even good things are temporary,” said Maz. “Now finish your tea and catch me up on whatever else has been going on with you.”

They talked for an hour more, having another cup of tea before Hux got up to go. “Thank you for your help,” he said to her.

“Come back if you need anything else, Armitage.”

As they went back onto the main floor of the shop, Hux caught sight of a small hexagonal pendant in the display case. In the center of the hexagon was a kind of sunburst. Maz kept a good amount of jewelry, but he had never admired any of it before.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Well, interesting you’re drawn to that,” she replied. “It’s a medium’s amulet. It’s meant to draw the wearer closer to the spirit plane. Are you interested in visiting your Kylo’s world?”

Hux said, “Could I do that?”

Maz tipped her head to the side, considering. “You’re a medium. It’s more than possible. You could enter the spirit realm in your dreams, if the pull is strong enough.”

“Do you think my pull to Kylo is?”

“It certainly could be.” She glanced at the amulet. “This would make it easier. Interested?”

Hux weighed the prospect, but shook his head. “Not today.”

He stooped to kiss Maz’s cheek at the door before leaving the shop. The rain had stopped and it was transitioning into twilight. Hux’s stomach rumbled, so he ducked into the taco shop down the street before he returned to his hotel in Raleigh. As he ate, he tried to reason out when he would have the time to look into Ren’s case around his work with the FBI. He supposed he’d find it; he’d promised, after all.

When Hux got back to the hotel, he hadn’t gotten a call from Phasma about the day’s interviews, so he couldn’t do much more on the case. He wasn’t yet sleepy and wasn’t inclined to watch television, so he dug his swim trunks out from his suitcase and headed down to the indoor pool. It smelled strongly of chlorine but was free of small children or teenagers in the hot tub. He slipped into the water, floating on his back for a while and letting his mind clear. He was completely surprised we he heard Ren say, “Hey, Doc.”

Ren was sitting at the edge of the deep end—only five feet—with the legs of his jeans rolled up and his bare feet in the water. Of course, the water’s surface was undisturbed.

Hux swam slowly over. “Good evening,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight. I thought you might be upset about Maz’s summoning.”

“I was,” Ren said, “but I calmed down. I guess it was necessary.”

“At least we came to an agreement,” said Hux, treading water despite the fact that he could easily stand.

Ren sat back on his hands. “You sure you’re okay with it?”

“I am,” Hux assured him. “I’ll have your files faxed over from Charlotte PD so I can look over them again. Perhaps I can talk to the detectives who worked the case. It’s a place to start, anyway.”

“I appreciate it,” Ren said. “I really do.”

Hux was quiet for a minute, the only sound in the pool room the gently splashing of water as he swam. Eventually, he said, “The files only tell me so much. May I ask a bit more about you?”

“Sure,” Ren replied, kicking his feet in the water. “What do you want to know?”

“Where did you grow up?” Hux asked. “The Charlotte area?”

“No. I was born in Indiana and went to school there. My dad moved to Charlotte while I was in the service, so I came down here after I got out to help him with the business.”

Hux could envision a tall, skinny boy with Ren’s features, much slimmer, yet to fill out. “Were you a good student? Enjoyed school?”

“Decent enough,” said Ren. “I made mostly B’s, but I got to class on time and did my homework. My mom made sure I never slacked off too much.”

“Why did you decide to go into the Marines? Instead of going to college, I mean.”

“I couldn’t afford it. I didn’t want to take out student loans, so I figured I’d join up and save up my pay, go back to school after I got out.”

Hux idly floated onto his front, keeping Ren in his line of sight. “But you didn’t.”

Ren shrugged. “I made a good living, and I had a library card.”

“I can see you with a stack of novels,” Hux said.

“Yeah,” Ren laughed. “The librarian at Alderaan knew me pretty well, too. I had a lot of time to read when I was inside.”

Hux sobered. “What did your parents think when you went on trial?”

“They took my side and said I wasn’t capable of it,” Ren said. “Nobody listened to them, though.”

Hux didn’t remember what either of Ben Solo’s parents looked like, but he could likely get a few pictures of them from the newspaper coverage of the trial. He wondered if Kylo took after them. Hux wasn’t burly like his father, but he had his vibrant coloring, and he could grow an impressive red beard when he wanted to.

“Did they come visit you in prison?” Hux asked.

“A couple of times,” Ren replied, “but not often. Dad was busy with work and Mom still lives in Indiana. She had to fly out to see me.”

“And you don’t have any siblings.”

Ren shook his head. “Nope. It’s just me. I don’t even have any cousins. My uncle never had any kids. You got brothers and sisters?”

“I don’t,” said Hux. “My mother died of cancer when I was young and my father never remarried.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Ren said. “Did you know your mom before she died?”

Hux had memories of the hospital and a woman in a kerchief taking him to the park, but little more than that. “Not very well. But I’ve seen photographs. My father doesn’t keep them out anymore, but I found an old album when I was a teenager. I stole one of the pictures of her. It’s framed in my house.”

Ren smiled, the edges of his mouth wrinkling. “That’s a good thing to do. You have a nice house?”

“It’s rambling old place,” Hux said. “Did you live with your father while you were working for him?”

“Hell no,” Ren said. “Han Solo is a pain in the ass. I had my own place.”

Hux laughed lightly. “I’m also glad not to live with my father. Brendol Hux is, as you say, a pain in the arse.”

“Brendol. Armitage. You’ve got to admit that the Brits really know how name people.”

“Can you throw stones, _Kylo Ren_?” Hux said, wry.

Ren raised his hands. “Okay, okay, fair enough.”

“Where did that name come from anyway?”

“Some of my buddies in the Marines,” said Ren. “We picked aliases for some stupid reason and mine just stuck.”

“Interesting,” Hux said. “You prefer it to your given name?”

Ren nodded. “I do. Feels better. My parents never used it, though. Drove me crazy.”

“Well,” Hux told him, “rest assured I’ll not call you by a name you don’t like.”

“Thanks, Doc. I mean Hux.”

Hux moved his arms gently under the water. It lapped at the side of the pool, through Kylo’s transparent calves. He looked perfectly relaxed there, just watching Hux swim.

“You changed your clothes,” Hux said after a moment. “Is there a wardrobe in the spirit realm?”

“Well,” said Ren, “I’ve kind of got a place where I go, now. I told you about my old apartment in Charlotte...it’s suddenly there in the middle of the gray nothing. It looks exactly the same as when I last saw it.”

That was certainly another thing Hux had never heard of. “Fascinating. So, you have clothes there?”

“Yep. All my old stuff.” He rubbed his chin. “I could go swing by and get my trunks.”

Hux said, “Would it even matter? You can’t exactly get wet.”

Ren looked down at his feet in the water. “Yeah, I guess not. Still feels kind of wrong, though.”

“I understand,” said Hux. “Preserving a certain sense of normalcy is probably a good idea.”

“I could always go skinny dipping,” Ren said, a sly smile on his face. “Nobody here to see me but you.”

Hux wet his lips. He certainly wouldn’t mind that, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I can’t stop you, but perhaps that’s a bit...forward?”

Ren leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve done more overt things to get a guy’s attention before. I’m willing to be forward with you.”

Hux was glad for the cool water, which kept him from reddening. “Kylo, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the compliments and the, ah, attention, but there’s really no way to make anything of this. We’re on two different planes.”

“That’s true,” said Ren, “but tell me honestly, if I still had a body, would you let me take you out?”

Hux felt suddenly very exposed in just his trunks, under Ren’s intent gaze. “Were circumstances different,” he said, “I might be willing.”

Ren grinned. “I’d show you a really good time, Doc. You like Asian fusion? There’s this great place in Charlotte I would take you to. Maybe get some sake in you before I asked if you wanted to come home with me.”

“That’s _very_ forward,” Hux said. “I generally do not go to bed with someone on the first date.” He had a few drunken hookups in his past, but as an adult, things were more dignified.

“Who said anything about a bed?” Ren asked. “There are lots of things I could do to you without being in a bed.”

Hux did actually flush at that. Ren’s phrasing wasn’t “do _with_ you,” but “do _to_ you.” There was something delightfully wicked about that that pushed buttons Hux didn’t know he had. “Good God,” he mumbled.

Ren huffed. “Okay, I’ll back off a little. But I’m serious.”

“I _do_ like Asian fusion,” Hux said.

Ren’s laugh echoed around the pool room. “That’s the right answer, Doc.”

Hux’s hands and feet were getting a little wrinkly, so he went to the ladder and climbed out of the pool. He didn’t mistake Ren’s appreciative attention as he toweled off.

“I’m going to go to bed,” Hux said. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Ren got to his feet, standing with his jeans awkwardly rolled up and his hair loose around his face. “You bet. Goodnight, Doc.”

“Goodnight, Kylo.”


	3. Chapter 3

After Hux returned from the pool, he washed the chlorine from his skin in the shower—lingering only to take care of himself for the night—before turning in. He fell asleep quickly, slipping immediately into a dream. He had had this particular one before. The world around him was a dull gray, though the confines of the place seemed to swirl like paint in water. He had been coming here in his sleep since he was a boy, and a few times he had found himself in unfamiliar rooms. They were always furnished, as if lived in, but there was never anyone in them. He usually wandered around the rooms, looking at books and picking up trinkets, until he woke. Sometimes he stayed in the dreams for what seemed like hours; in others he had only a few minutes to take in his surroundings before it was all swept away, replaced by another, more abstract vision.

As he stood in the gray expanse now, he began to walk. It wasn’t long, fortunately, before he came upon one of the rooms. The exterior walls were unadorned white, but a door hung at the middle of one side: a utilitarian door with a small peephole and a peeling sticker with the number eight printed on it. This must be an apartment—and one of the plainer ones Hux had seen in his dreams. Boldly, Hux approached the door and tried the handle; it didn’t budge. Odd—every other room he had encountered had been unlocked and easy for him to enter.

He fiddled with the handle again, hoping it would give way, but it held firm. Hux chewed his cheek, glaring at the door. He could just leave and hopefully find another room, but there was also the polite thing to do: he could knock. Raising his fist with caution, he rapped three times and waited. At first there was no response, and he was about to turn away, but then he heard the deadbolt slide free and the door opened a crack—as far as the security chain would allow. In the narrow gap was Ren’s face.

“Kylo?” Hux asked.

Ren’s eyebrows rose. “Hux? Hang on a second.” He shut the door, loosed the chain, and opened it again, this time wide. “Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Hux replied, “I should ask you the same thing. This is _my_ dream.” He didn’t like to think that Ren was invading his dreams now, especially after the second night he had masturbated to the thought of him. He tried not to break eye contact despite his embarrassment; Ren couldn’t read his thoughts.

“Dream?” Ren said. “I don’t think so, Doc. This is, uh, my place. Where I come when I’m not around you.”

Hux’s gut turned icy. “You mean this is the spirit realm. Limbo?”

Ren leaned on the door, looking out into the gray nothingness around them. “I’m pretty sure. It’s not really a place for you. I mean, how could you even be here?”

Maz had just said that he might have the ability to enter the spirit plane while he slept, though he hadn’t taken the amulet that was supposed to draw him closer to it. He was afraid, however, that he had already been coming here for many years. This was the first time he had seen anyone, which once again implied the strength of his attachment to Ren—or Ren’s to him, whichever way one looked at it.

“It’s a bit complicated,” Hux said. “May I”—a slight hesitation—“come in?”

“Oh, sure,” said Ren, backing away from the door to make space for him to come through. “That was rude of me to keep you standing outside.”

Hux didn’t respond; he was too busy taking in the small room Ren apparently occupied. It was an apartment, but hardly more than one room. The queen-sized bed was against the far wall, an expensive flat-screen television hanging across from it. A narrow table had several gaming consoles lined up on it. The tiny galley kitchen was adjacent, a pair of bar stools tucked under the lip of the counter. There was no dishwasher, so Ren had a wooden dish rack filled with matching blue bowls and plates, modern-looking flatware. The door just off to the left likely led to the bathroom. What stuck out most, though, were the bookshelves that lined every free wall; they were stuffed full of paperbacks and hardbacks, all clearly having been read at least once before.

“I know it’s not much,” Ren said from behind him, “but this was my place in Charlotte. No idea how it got here—into limbo, I mean. I just found it a day or so after I died.” He said it so frankly that it caught Hux off guard.

“I thought you said you made a decent living as an electrician,” Hux said. “This is the kind of apartment a graduate student living on a stipend lets.”

Ren came up beside him, rubbing the back of his neck, under his hair. “Yeah, I know. I always felt kind of weird bringing guys or girls back here, but I just liked it. It was simple. After being in the service, I got used to things being pretty spartan.”

“Did you bring a lot of people back?” The question came out before Hux could think to stop himself.

Ren eyed him sidelong. “Are you asking if I had a lot of casual sex?”

Hux floundered for moment, but he settled on: “No. That’s none of my business. Forget I even asked that. It was highly inappropriate.”

“It can be your business if you want it to be,” Ren said, taking a step closer. “If you want to know, I’m perfectly honest.”

Hux pressed his lips together. The only time someone offered to share their sexual history was when someone else was preparing to sleep with them. Hux certainly had no intention of that. It was impossible, anyway; Ren was incorporeal. And yet, as Hux looked at him now, he seemed solid enough, not as translucent as he normally was.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hux said firmly.

“Shame,” said Ren. He extended a hand, as if to touch Hux’s upper arm, just at the juncture of his shoulder.

Hux was prepared for his fingers to pass right through him, but as Ren brushed the sleeve of his shirt—the loose one he had worn to bed—he _felt it_. Both of them started.

“Holy shit,” Ren murmured, curling his hand around Hux’s arm. It was large enough to nearly wrap around his skinny bicep. “I can touch you.”

Hux stared at Ren’s hand. “Yes, you can.”

Ren’s thumb moved against him in a strangely tender gesture. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Hux replied. “I’ve never seen another person in this realm before. But clearly the rules are different than on the physical plane.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Ren moved his hand up over Hux’s shoulder to the join of his neck. “I like these rules a lot better, Doc.”

Hux knew he should move away, but he didn’t, instead just watched Ren study him.

“You’re warm,” Ren said. He set his left hand at Hux’s waist, putting on just enough pressure to entice Hux to come closer. Drawn, Hux did. Ren continued, “You smell good, too—like soap and clean sheets. Different than I thought, but I like it.”

“You’ve thought about how I smell?” Hux asked.

Ren laid his right thumb along Hux’s jaw. “I’ve thought a lot of things about you.” His gaze dropped conspicuously to Hux’s mouth, and he moved in a half inch.

They were nearly the same height, though Ren would have to duck his head just a little to kiss him and Hux turn his face up. It would be so easy to come together like that when they were already so close, nearly pressed together, hips to chest. But Hux couldn’t afford to get into this.

Quietly but insistently, he said, “You shouldn’t have.” Ren’s expression darkened. Hux pressed on: “I’m not interested in you that way. I’m sorry.” He took a long step back, escaping Ren’s hold on him.

Ren’s arms fell to his sides. Wounded wasn’t exactly how Hux would have described him, but he definitely disapproved. “Right,” he said. “I get it.”

Hux wanted to apologize again and take it back all at once, but he did neither, instead just standing a pace away trying not to show just how dejected he suddenly felt. He had done the right thing, but it didn’t mean part of him didn’t regret it.

“Might I bother you for some water?” he asked lamely.

Ren seemed to snap back to himself, saying, “Sure. Tap water okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Hux stood by while Ren went past him into the kitchen. He filled a glass from a faucet that stuttered a bit around the filter installed on it before going to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of beer. It was something dark that Hux didn’t recognize, but he preferred wine anyway. Ren came around the counter and pulled out one of the bar stools.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Hux took the stool beside him, resting his forearms on the counter with both hands wrapped around the square glass Ren had given him. “I might have to ask Maz about this,” he said after a moment. “I’ve been in this realm before, even if I didn’t recognize it for what it was, then.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Ren said. “It’s got to be a rare, uh...power?”

“I don’t know that I would call it that, but it’s certainly something unusual. I’ve always wondered if it was inherited. I know my father doesn’t have it, but perhaps my mother did. Or it could have skipped a generation and just manifested in me. I know hardly anything about my grandparents, though.”

“I only knew my grandmother,” said Ren, “but I heard a lot about my grandpa growing up. My grandma was a senator in the sixties, after my mom and uncle were born. That was pretty unheard-of at that point, so she caught a lot of shit for it, but she never backed down. And my grandpa, he supported her. He had gotten drafted during the Second World War and she had been a nurse. Kind of a cliché story, but I always thought it was romantic. They got married right after the war ended. He worked as a factory foreman after that.”

“That’s a very nice story,” Hux said. “It’s a shame you never knew him.”

Ren took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I would have liked to. Mom always used to say I took after my grandpa, and not only because we were both in the service. I guess I look something like him.”

Family history had a lot to do with the shaping of a serial killer, but looking at Ren’s, it seemed fairly stable. Killers usually came from broken or abusive homes. Ren’s parents had divorced, but that was hardly uncommon in this day and age. It didn’t mean he had turned out to be a psychopath. In fact, Hux’s upbringing seemed more tumultuous than Ren’s.

“You’ve seen pictures of him?” Hux asked. “Your grandfather?”

“Yeah,” Ren replied. “Mom’s got a few. I used to look at them a lot when I was a kid.”

Hux took a drink of water. “What about your paternal grandparents?”

“Don’t know a thing about them,” Ren said, spinning his condensation-damp beer bottle on the counter. “Dad left home when he was sixteen. Stayed with his friend Lando’s family until he graduated from high school and then took off to technical school. He always said he put his past behind him and that it didn’t matter much.”

It did, a bit, if mental illness or other tendencies for violence ran on that side of Ren’s family. There was some evidence that those traits could be inherited, but not enough to convince Hux that they were the main factors that led to a deranged, criminal mind.

“I suppose we’re similar in that way,” said Hux. “I don’t know much about my mother’s family and you about your father’s.”

Ren turned halfway to him, soberly saying, “I don’t think we have much in common, Doc.”

Hux frowned. “There’s always some manner of common ground. I was merely trying to find it.”

“Why?” Ren asked. “We’re not friends.”

Barely managing not to flinch, Hux glanced away, pretending to study his water. “I see.”

Ren sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I guess I’m just a little disappointed.”

“By what?”

“Come on, Doc,” Ren said. “You know what. I made a pass at you and I struck out. You can’t blame me for sulking a little.”

Hux closed his eyes, also exhaling heavily. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “There are just a lot of factors that would complicate things significantly if we...dallied.”

Ren cocked an eyebrow, amused. “I’ve never heard it put that way before. You think I want to _dally_ with you?”

“Well, how would you put it?” Hux grumbled.

“I’m not just looking to get you into my bed,” Ren said. “I’ve had one-night stands before, but I think we’re pretty far past that at this point. We can’t just throw down and then go our separate ways in the morning.” He swiveled his stool to face Hux properly, touching his knees to Hux’s thigh. “I know it’s complicated, but”—he offered a little smile—“like Maz said, I ‘fancy’ you.”

Hux laughed lightly. “That, too, sounds old-fashioned.” Tentatively, he set a hand on Kylo’s knee; it was just as solid as before. “It’s not that I’m not flattered, Kylo. And I’m not _not_ attracted to you—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Ren asked. He picked up Hux’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. Hux’s heart jumped in his chest. “Give me a chance. I’ll treat you right.”

Hux’s lips parted in surprise and, well, interest. That was actually the most gallant offer he’d had in years. For all that Ren said Poe Dameron was smooth, he had quite a bit of that in himself, too. He looked at his hand in Ren’s steady grip and then back up at Ren’s face. He was open and hopeful. Hux wanted to give in, but it seemed so impossible. Outside of this place—which he wasn’t even certain he could come to by choice—they couldn’t touch, couldn’t smell, couldn’t feel or taste each other. It was just going to let them both down in the end.

“Kylo,” he started.

Ren dropped his chin to his chest. “You don’t have to go on. I know what you’re going to say. I don’t need to be shot down twice in the span of twenty minutes.” He set Hux’s hand back into his lap. “I’ll drop it.”

Rueful, Hux reached again for his glass of water, but his hand passed right through it. He balked, pulling back sharply. Ren was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“I think I might be waking up,” Hux replied.

“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you around.”

Hux gave Ren a last remorseful look before the room around him began to fade. Ren raised his half-full beer in a salute; it was the last of him Hux saw.

Hux woke with a gasp, chilled and covered in cold sweat. He had kicked his blankets off at some point and was shivering. The clock at the bedside read 4:43am. He fell back against his pillow, feeling out of place in his physical body. He needed to realign himself. Rolling to the edge of the mattress, he turned on a lamp. His running clothes were folded by his suitcase; he would feel more like himself after a jog. He got up and dressed, going down to the hotel gym to get himself back together before another day of work with the FBI task force.

 

* * *

 

Sweat-damp and pleasantly winded, Hux returned from the hotel gym forty-five minutes later to take a shower and dress for the day. It wasn’t even past six when his cell phone vibrated with an incoming call: Phasma.

“Morning, Hux,” she said. “Hopefully I didn’t wake you up, but we’ve got a new crime scene downtown. The bastard killed another girl.”

Hux’s spirits sank; he had hoped they would manage to get a better lead on the murderer before he struck the next victim down. And it was a short timeline. It appeared he was escalating. “Text me the address and I’ll be there right away.”

He hung up and waited for the message. The address proved to be an apartment complex on the west side of State’s campus and it wasn’t particularly hard to find once he spotted the numerous police cars, plus a medical examiner’s van. Phasma was waiting for him outside the building.

“What’s her name?” Hux asked.

Phasma read from the small notebook she carried. “Vanessa Lydon, twenty-one. She’s just his type.”

“Is she in the bedroom?”

Phasma nodded. “Just like the others. Come in and see.”

The apartment was on the third floor, up a set of wooden stairs and to the left. The door was already open, cordoned off by yellow police tape. Rey was standing outside with her thumb hitched on the gun holster at her waist, her detective’s badge hanging from her neck. Her expression was grim.

“Hello, Dr. Hux,” she said. “It’s not looking good in there. The poor girl.”

Hux paused to look at Rey—really look—and he was struck by how much she matched this killer’s victim type. She was a little tall, but otherwise she was just what he was looking for: slender and brown-haired. She was too old—in her late twenties—but she fit the profile. He wondered if her superiors had thought through whether she belonged on this case—if it put her at risk.

“I had hoped to keep this from happening,” Hux said to her. “Prevent another murder.”

She gave him a pat on the shoulder—brusque, businesslike. “We’ll catch him.”

Hux stepped under the tape and into the entryway of the apartment. It was a fairly open concept, with high ceilings fitting of the highest floor in the complex. There was a rack of shoes—flats, a couple pairs of heels, and running shoes with the soles worn down—next to the door, and the laundry room was just to the right. The living room was spacious, though the sofa was clearly a Craigslist acquisition. It was clean and a small flat-screen TV stood on a stand across from it. There were two bedrooms, one straight ahead and the other past the kitchen to the right. It was luxurious compared to Ren’s efficiency apartment.

He had tried not to think too hard on his trip to the spirit plane or Ren’s offers of making something of their odd relationship. The whole idea was inconceivable considering their positions: dead and alive, to put it bluntly. Hux was firmly grounded in the physical world and there was no better reminder of that than Special Agent Dameron’s greeting upon Hux’s arrival into the galley kitchen.

“Morning, Hux,” he said, far brighter than the occasion called for. “Thanks for coming down so early.” He offered his hand and Hux shook it.

“Not a problem,” Hux said. “Is she in the master bedroom?”

“No,” said Poe. “The smaller room.” Gesturing to the nearby door, he ushered Hux in.

The body was still present this time: a slender young woman with her brown hair neatly combed and her arms at her sides. She was completely clean, wearing a matching bra and panties printed with seagulls, and she had been stabbed exactly ten times around the abdomen. A man with an almost elfin face—slender nose, high cheekbones, and a pert chin—wearing a navy windbreaker that read “M.E.” was taking her liver temperature.

“Hux,” Poe said, “this is Dr. Mitaka, Raleigh’s medical examiner. He just got here, too.” To Mitaka: “What’s the verdict?”

“Well, she’s been dead four to six hours,” Mitaka said, “so that puts her time of death somewhere between ten and two.”

That was later than the other victims had been killed, which either suggested she was out later and had deviated from her pattern or that the killer was deviating from his. Hux hoped it was the former and the killer had had to improvise, staking her out longer. He wasn’t finished with his current profile; a change in _modus operandi_ now would throw a wrench in his work.

Hux leaned over to see the stab wounds. They matched the others: made with surgical precision and placed the same. There was the usual bruising around her neck. In that he had a kind of compassion; either that or he wanted his victims still so he could kill them as he might on a surgeon’s table.

“She looks just like the rest of them,” Hux said. “What a tragedy.”

“That’s the truth,” said Mitaka. “Do you need her here much longer, or I can take her for autopsy?” He sighed. “Doubt I’ll find anything different about her, but there’s always the hope he’ll slip up and leave us something.”

“I’m praying for that,” Poe said. “I think you can take her away.”

Hux nodded his agreement, turning his attention to the rest of the crime scene. Several CSIs were already processing it, dusting for prints and looking for trace evidence. Hux suspected they wouldn’t find anything, again.

The ensuite was likely the main crime scene, leading Hux to make his way through the girl’s walk-through closet to where the bathtub and shower were. The surface of the long counter and mirror were not immaculate—some long hairs scattered around and the mirror marked with water stains and dried toothpaste specks—but the bathtub was spotless. It smelled of bleach, but no doubt the CSIs would turn up blood with their Luminol. What Hux knew the others couldn’t see, though, was the girl sitting naked on the side of the tub, sobbing into her hands. His stomach heaved in her presence.

“Poe,” he said, turning back to where he stood in the closet, “would you mind giving me a moment alone in this space? I need to do some thinking.”

“Sure,” Poe said. “We’ll be right outside.”

Hux hoped they’d be talking loudly enough to avoid hearing his conversation with Vanessa’s ghost, which would sound, to them, as if he was talking to himself. With a curt nod, he closed the door to the bathroom and pressed his back against it, facing the girl.

“Hello, Vanessa,” he said slowly. “My name is Armitage. I know this is very difficult, but can you look up at me?”

She sniffled, but lowered her hands from her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and cheeks wet with tears. Hux had no handkerchief to hand her, or anything else to help her cover up with. He moved closer, keeping his hands at his sides and shoulders hunched to prevent himself from appearing imposing. After all, a man had just assaulted and killed her—even if she didn’t remember the last part.

Hux continued in a soft voice, “Vanessa, I’m here to help you. May I ask you some questions?”

She hiccupped, wiping at her runny nose. “I guess. How did you get in here? I locked the door.”

“Your roommate let me in,” Hux lied. “She was worried about you and thought I might be able to do something about it. I’m a doctor, you see.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m not sick.”

Hux said, “No, you’re not, but something’s happened to you, something that might be alarming.”

Her eyes were blue and filled with fear. “I remember coming home last night after bar trivia. Rochelle wasn’t home, but there was someone in the apartment. He was in my room.”

“Your bedroom?” Hux asked.

She nodded. “He was in the closet. I was taking off my dress, about to go in to hang it up when he grabbed me.” A stifled sob. “He held me by the neck and then...and then I don’t remember anything else.”

“That’s all right,” said Hux. “It’s best you don’t try to recall it, anyway. May I ask, though, was he wearing a mask, or did you see his face?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “He came from behind me. But he had long sleeves around...around my neck.” She touched her collarbone. There were no wounds on her spirit form, which was a small blessing.

Hux crouched down in front of her, though he didn’t reach out to touch her; he couldn’t. “Did he say anything to you? Did you hear his voice at all?”

“No. I barely heard anything. He was so quiet.” Tears welled again in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I can’t stop crying. He scared me, but nothing bad happened, right?”

Hux blinked up at her sorrowfully. “I’m afraid it did.”

Comprehension passed over her face as a fat tear fell from her right eye. “He killed me.”

“Yes,” Hux said. “But it’s all right. You’re on your way to the next plane now. You’ll soon be able to cross over.”

Her shoulders began to shake, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh, God.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

Hux turned to see Ren crossing to where Vanessa sat. He pulled off the green canvas jacket he was wearing and draped it over her shoulders to cover her nudity. She tugged it close as Ren sat down beside her and put a comforting hand on her back.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “It’s all right like this. Dr. Hux knows what he’s talking about. You’re going to be just fine.”

Hunched over as she was, she had to look up to see Ren’s face. “You’re...like me?”

“Yeah,” Ren replied. “I died this week. Long story, but I’ve been okay since. Dr. Hux has been keeping me company. He’s a nice guy, and he only wants to help you.”

Vanessa managed a watery but grateful look at Hux, and he smiled.

“We’re both here to help you,” he said. “This is my friend Kylo. He can explain your new situation to you.”

“O-Okay,” she murmured. To Ren: “What’s going to happen now?”

“Well,” said Ren, “you’re going to be looking out for a door or a light. That should be your cue to get going to your next stop on this ride. We don’t know exactly where it goes, but it means you’re free of here. Every spirit has to move on, or so I’ve been told.”

She asked, “What about you? You’re still here.”

Ren blinked up at Hux, who gave him a helpless look. Fortunately, Ren improvised. He said, “Yeah, I’m kind of a special case. Dr. Hux is still trying to figure me out. But you shouldn’t be stuck here long.” He asked Hux: “Right, Doc?”

“Right,” Hux said. “You should be crossing over sometime soon.”

“I’ll stay with you until you do,” said Ren. “Dr. Hux might have to go back to work, but I’ll stick around.” He gave Hux a half smile. “Go on, Doc. We’ll be fine here.”

Hux rose, but before he could turn away, he saw a sliver of light appear in his peripheral vision. Ren and Vanessa clearly saw it, too, both of them illuminated by the brightness.

“Is that…?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Go on through. It’s your time.”

Shakily, she got to her feet, Ren helping steady her as she took shuffling steps toward the light. It opened wider, until it was yawning wide enough for her to pass through.

“Are you coming, too?” she said to Ren.

Ren hesitated, looking to Hux, but then said, “I guess so, if I can use your door.”

Hux didn’t know if that was possible, either, but if Ren could finally cross over this way, he wasn’t about to stop him. It was sudden, though, and Hux would have preferred to have another few minutes to say goodbye to him before he went.

“Good luck to the both of you,” Hux said.

“Thanks, Doc,” said Ren. Facing the light again, he and Vanessa passed into it and disappeared.

The bathroom seemed empty—echoing—when they were gone. Despite the vanity lights being on, it was dimmer, too, without their door. Hux wanted to take a moment to sit down, or to lean on the counter, but he didn’t have gloves on and wasn’t about to disturb the crime scene. Instead, he ran his hands over his hair, even if it was already in order, to compose himself. A little more settled, he returned to the door and swung it open to find Poe in conversation with Finn just outside the closet.

“Everything okay, Hux?” Poe asked, brows drawn. “You look a little shaken up.”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Hux replied. “I think I just might need some air.”

Poe went to him and, putting a hand at the small of his back, escorted him through the apartment and back out into the already muggy morning air. Hux breathed steadily, standing at the railing of the third-floor landing, looking out over the trees beyond a narrow strip of grass. A lone barbecue grill stood like a sentinel at the edge of the forest, one crushed beer can forgotten beneath it.

“Is this your first active crime scene?” Poe said, coming to stand beside him—ever so slightly too close to be professional.

“It is,” said Hux. “I’ve seen my share of gruesome photographs and dissected a cadaver in physiology class, but there’s something about it in there that was just more visceral.”

Poe laced his fingers together as he leaned on his elbows on the railing. “It takes some getting used to, but it’s never easy to see an innocent life snuffed out like that. This guy really is a monster.”

Hux was more reluctant, now, to use that term than he had been only a week before—before he had met Ren. Many people had called Ren that during his trial and yet he insisted he was innocent. And Hux had promised to help exonerate him, if that was possible. If Ren was gone at this point, maybe he was no longer obligated, but his interest had been piqued and he did want to continue. In fact, he intended to call Charlotte PD and get Ren’s files faxed over today. Even if Ren had passed to the other side, Hux had given his word. Maybe that would come as a kind of comfort to Leia Organa and Han Solo, Ren’s parents. Hux wondered how they had been notified of Ren’s death in prison, but, in the end, he likely didn’t want to know.

“Well,” he said to Poe, “if this isn’t a catalyst to work harder, I don’t know what else is. I’ll go right back to the station today and get back to work on the profile.”

Poe said, “We don’t have to rush directly off. Have you even had anything to eat this morning?”

The presence of Vanessa’s spirit had been turned his stomach enough to put him off of food for a while, but now that Hux thought about it, he was getting hungry.

“I haven’t,” he said.

Poe pushed back from the railing, touching his shoulder. “Then why don’t we get something real quick before we go to the station? My treat. You like waffles? There’s a place off of Six Forks that has good ones.”

“Sure,” said Hux.

Poe grinned. “Great. Let me just tell Phasma we’re going. You have your car here?”

“Yes. I assume you came with Phasma, so I can drive us to the restaurant.” He pulled his keys from his pocket as if to prove he was capable of operating the car. It was oddly ham-handed, but Poe—like Ren—made him fumble a bit in his presence. He was no better than a secondary school student with a crush, he was disappointed to admit.

“Okay,” Poe said. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute or two.” Flashing a grin, he ducked back under the tape and into the apartment.

Hux made his way down the stairs again, past several uniformed officers trying to keep the neighbors from getting too close to the scene—and hopefully informing them of what had happened, even if it frightened them. He himself would rather know the details of a local murder than be forced to conjecture all the possible scenarios. He was surely more creative than most laypeople, with his history of studying criminal behavior, but crime shows were ubiquitous; certainly there would be some wild theories among the residents of this apartment complex.

The Civic was parked on the opposite side of the M.E.’s van in the scanty shade of a sweetgum tree. Hux kept out of the worst of the sun as he waited for Poe to reappear. This wasn’t exactly the date Poe had alluded to a few nights ago at dinner, but it was clearly an excuse to get Hux alone.

Hux paused briefly to consider the ramifications. He tried to keep himself from using the terms he had employed with Kylo at the bar in his tiny apartment the night before, mainly _dally._ Any activities with Poe would be temporary, as he was only in North Carolina for the duration of this investigation—to which Hux was hoping they would soon bring a swift conclusion—leaving anything between them to be, well, a dalliance: nothing long or emotionally taxing; something frivolous, spontaneous. Hux wasn’t blind; he recognized that it would have been the same with Ren. That put them on almost equal footing, were Hux to have to choose between them. But Poe had a body and a steady heartbeat, which Ren decidedly did not.

The sensible choice was Special Agent Dameron, who was currently jogging across the parking lot toward Hux’s car, his hair blown just slightly back the breeze his speed created. He came to a stop at the passenger side of the Civic, asking, “Ready to go?”

“I am,” Hux said. He unlocked the doors with a click of a button and then swung into the driver’s seat. The Civic was far from new, but it was at least clean and Hux had purchased a new air freshener on a whim at a convenience store where he was buying gasoline. It promised “the tropical and fresh scents of Hawaii.” Mostly it smelled of pineapple syrup.

The waffle restaurant turned out to not only serve said waffles, but also fried chicken, which was to be eaten at the same time. As Hux parked along the curb and got out of the car, he hoped they also had spicy collard greens to go with it. Though they served breakfast, the dining room was mostly empty when he and Poe walked in asking for a table for two. The perky waitress brought them to a booth and dropped two menus. The special today seemed to be blueberry waffles with two wings and two drumsticks. Hux decided he wanted that straight away.

“I didn’t know what to make of fried chicken and waffles on the same plate when I got here,” Poe said, “but damned if it isn’t good.”

Hux laughed. “Yes. It’s a specialty of this area and not to be missed. My father still finds it revolting, but I have a soft spot on my palate for it.”

Poe flashed a smile. “It’s hard to imagine a nice English boy getting dropped in the middle of a military town in Carolina and actually settling in. Didn’t you feel out of place?”

“I still do, sometimes,” Hux said, “but I was fifteen when I came here and I’ve been a resident for almost twenty years at this point. I’m a citizen. This is more home than England is. I haven’t been back since 2011.”

“Didn’t lose the accent, though,” said Poe. “I have to admit, I like the accent.”

“You’re not the first to be drawn to that, I’m afraid,” Hux said. “I’ve rather learned to identify anyone who’s just pursuing me to hear me say ‘petrol’ and ‘boot’ and ‘pavement’ instead of ‘sidewalk.’”

Poe affected shock. “That’s not what I’m about, I promise. Though if you were in the mood to give a lecture, I’d gladly listen.”

Hux pretended to study the menu for a moment before he looked up again. Though he might be out of practice, he knew how to keep a man on the hook, let him wriggle, and then reward him. He asked, “What is it, then, that you’re about?”

“Well,” Poe said, leaning on the table, “I’d just like to get to know you better. Phasma’s told me all these stories about her buddy Hux.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She even told me they used to call you Dr. Hugs when they wanted to piss you off.”

“Oh, God,” Hux groaned. “Yes, they used to do that, knowing that I was the least likely of any of them to actually give anyone a hug. When Phasma greeted me in the station that first day, it was her way of reminding me.” He pursed his lips. “I’m sometimes a bit of a prickly man.”

“You don’t come off that way to me,” said Poe. “I mean, you’re smart, that much is clear, but you’ve been perfectly polite to everyone.”

Hux tapped his fingertips on the table. “Yes, well, nobody’s gotten in my way. In fact, they’ve only facilitated my work. It would be a mistake to antagonize those who were clearly trying to help me do my job.”

Poe nodded. “That makes sense. I won’t get in your way, then. But I think I might be able to take on your pricklier side.”

“Do you?” Hux asked, one eyebrow raised.

Poe looked Hux up and down from where he was seated, saying, “I’d like to see as many sides of you as you want to show me.”

Hux huffed, flattered and charmed. “You’re very determined, aren’t you?”

“Too much?” Poe said.

“No,” Hux replied. “It’s just been a while since anyone has been this forthright with me.” Save Ren, of course.

Poe laid his left hand flat on the table between them. “You just have to tell me if I’m coming on too strong, but you know when you see someone and you just can’t look away?” He was holding Hux’s gaze, his brown eyes bright with sincerity, even if flirtatious sincerity. “I’ve heard all about you and seen pictures, but in person you’re just...wow.”

Hux put his hand on the tabletop, too, just within reach of Poe’s. “You don’t have come on much stronger than this,” he said. “I can tell you’re…” He trailed off.

Poe picked right up: “Interested in you? You can say that again.”

“Yes,” said Hux. “But I may have to caution you: the case is my main focus. I won’t let anything draw too much attention from that.”

“Of course not,” Poe said. “And it’s the same for me. We’re here to catch this guy first and foremost. Anything else is”—he winked—“an extra bonus.”

The waitress came to take their orders: the special for Hux and a sweet potato waffle with a fried chicken breast for Poe. They both had steaming cups of coffee.

Poe, it was revealed, was a first generation American, his mother having come from Guatemala when she found out she was pregnant. There was no father in the mix, but she had cousins in Portland who had taken her in. Poe spoke fluent Spanish and apparently had played the guitar in a band during college.

“I still play sometimes,” he said as he poured maple syrup over his waffle and chicken. He cleaned the drop at the tip of the pitcher away with his thumb and popped it into his mouth. “I’m nothing special, but I can sing, too.”

“I’d like to hear you play,” said Hux, “and sing, if you’re so inclined.”

Poe stabbed a chunk of waffle and chicken at the same time, holding up his full fork in a salute. “For you, Dr. Hugs, anything.”

They drove to the Raleigh Police Department Headquarters after Poe had settled their bill. Phasma and Detectives Finn and Rey were already in the room, all of them in conference around the main pinboard at the center of the space. They didn’t even look up when Poe and Hux came in; Poe had to toss a wad of paper at Phasma’s head to get her attention. Of course, she caught it deftly before it hit her.

“About time you two got here,” she said, though there was nothing cutting in her tone. To Hux’s chagrin, she was looking between the two of them knowingly. She never missed anything. “Come over here and listen to what Rey got from the neighbors.”

Apparently, several of the residents of Vanessa’s building had noticed a blue sedan in the parking lot over the past few weeks that didn’t belong to any of them. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that it was one of the other tenants’, but something about it just seemed to stick out. Nobody had gotten a plate number, though. Mrs. Epson in 806 had said she saw it there the day before, but it was gone in the morning when she returned from her graveyard shift at the Wake Medical Center. Others had similar stories, but no one had heard anything suspicious around midnight.

“We’ve so little,” Phasma said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “This killer is _good_ and it’s making us look very _bad_. Hux, have you got anything else in the profile for us?”

“I’m planning to finish it to present tomorrow,” he replied. “I’ve just got to finish looking over the last of my notes. I’ll have something concrete for you then.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Okay. Let’s get back to work.”

 

* * *

 

During a lull in the afternoon’s activities, Hux had snuck out to telephone the Charlotte PD about Ren’s casefiles. He had been directed to a Detective Unamo, who had worked the case back in 2014.When she had picked up, he had introduced himself as a consultant for the FBI and then asked about Kylo’s case.

“Shit, it’s been a while since I’ve thought of that one,” Unamo had said bluntly. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Well, ideally, quite a few things,” he said. “I’ve had a cursory look at his files, but I was hoping you might be willing to fax them over in their entirety for me to see again.”

Unamo’s skepticism had come through the phone. “The FBI wants files on the Ren case?”

Hux stumbled. “Ah, no, not exactly. _I_ would like to know more about the case. I’m following a lead for something and...it’s just very important that I get a hold of the files.”

“Okay, I can have the lackeys do it today,” she said. Hux provided the number for her. “You have other questions?”

“Just about your impressions of Ren,” said Hux. “You studied him during the investigation and testified at the trial.”

“Well,” she said, taking a moment to fully reply, “it was a pretty cut and dried situation. We linked him with DNA and then worked backwards to get him into place for the other murders. He never had an alibi for those nights. He said he was at home reading, but that was on a Friday or Saturday night. You don’t expect me to believe that a twenty-five-year-old man was curled up with a book and a mug of tea.”

Hux would have doubted it, too, if he didn’t know how much Ren enjoyed reading. The bookshelves around his apartment had been evidence enough of that. Hux could imagine him sitting on the bed with the lamp giving him a pool of light to read by. The tea was a stretch, but a beer wasn’t out of the question.

“Plus,” Detective Unamo continued, “he was a regular at one of the bars in his neighborhood: First Order Bar and Grill. We interviewed a bunch of other customers and the owner and they all attested to the fact that he spent a lot of time there. We argued that that was his hunting ground. He picked up the girls there and followed them home to kill them.”

“You say he followed them home,” Hux said. “He didn’t want to sleep with them any of them?”

“There was one he went home with,” she replied. “But he maintained he had left an hour before her time of death.”

“Perhaps he had better luck with men,” Hux muttered, half to himself.

Unamo snorted. “Yeah, maybe he did, but he hadn’t really ever had a steady relationship with men _or_ women. Most serial killers can’t hold one down.”

There were numerous exceptions to that assumption that Hux could list off the top of his head, but he held his tongue. He wondered, though, why Ren hadn’t managed to form a relationship. He was quite charming when he set his mind to it and Hux suspected he would make a good long-term partner. He wasn’t exactly sure what that suspicion was based on, other than Ren’s forthrightness, but it seemed to fit.

“Were there any really strong witnesses amongst the bar patrons?” Hux asked.

“One stuck out,” Unamo replied. “Norbert Snoke, the owner of the place. He’s weirdly clean-cut to manage that kind of bar, but he’s good at it. He has a few other places around the city and I think he just opened a place in Raleigh. He testified to the fact that Ren spent time there and had gotten to know him, and also that Ren had been in a few fights. He instigated a couple, but mostly he got pulled into the others. The prosecution said it proved he was more than capable of violence.”

“And there was the mention of his history in the Marines.”

“It was brought up, but all that kind of stuff is classified, so it wasn’t worth much during the trial. He owned up to having killed people, though, in his statements. You know he didn’t take the stand.”

“I do,” said Hux. “What else can you tell me about this Snoke? He knew Ren well?”

“Honestly?” Unamo said. “He gave me the chills. He’s really calm and even—I don’t know—slimy?”

Hux knew detectives often had good intuition about suspects, and if Snoke stood out to Unamo, there was a possibility he might have been one. “Did he have alibis for all the nights in question?”

“We never pressed that,” she said. “He wasn’t ever a suspect, despite the weird vibe I got from him. There was just zero evidence to implicate him. Same with the other regulars we interviewed.”

“Understood,” Hux said. “Well, thank you for the information. I’ll expect the files a little later today.” He paused, but then added: “If something else comes up while I look over them, may I call you again?”

“Sure thing. I’m always around.”

He had thanked her then and hung up. Despite the heat, he had stayed outside a while longer, leaning against the hot brick of the wall. Unamo and her team had spent hundreds of hours examining Ren, the case, and all the witnesses; presumably, they knew him well. But Hux didn’t believe it. Even in their short acquaintance, Hux had learned more about Ren than Unamo seemed to know. Being interrogated by the police surely affected how Ren behaved, of course, but he was remarkably open with Hux. Perhaps it came from his attraction—and yet it seemed more trusting than just that. Ren had put his fate, as it were, in Hux’s hands, now. That took a great deal of trust.

The files had come through an hour later, after Hux had returned to the operations room, and one of the secretaries in the station had brought them to him. Phasma had inquired as to what they were, but Hux had dodged the question. He didn’t want to bring up Ren’s case and its similarities to the current murders just yet; he needed to think more.

When he had returned to his hotel room that night, he had taken out the files and begun to look over them in depth. He recognized Unamo’s reports, which were very clear and well-composed. The trial transcripts would be far too long to send, so Hux had to content himself with the evidence collected at the scenes. There was decidedly very little of it.

The women had been killed with knives found at the scene; they were weapons of convenience rather than one that held significance for the killer. They seemed much more like crimes of opportunity than the heavily planned stalking murders of the current case. In Ren’s psychological profiles, the experts had said he was impulsive and quick to anger, which supported the spur-of-the-moment killings. Hux hadn’t seen that part of him, but he didn’t expect Ren to show it when he was trying to convince Hux of his innocence. Hux wondered if he might have provoked him for the sake of experimentation. Ren would have hated being played like that, however. He already wasn’t fond of all the doctors who had poked and prodded at his psyche before the trial.

In his statement about the hair found in the final victim’s shower drain, Ren had claimed that he had been at her house for a liaison, and that he had showered and left before ten o’clock. Time of death was put at around ten or eleven. But he had no alibi for that time, having just returned home to go to bed. The prosecution had laid into him on that.

Hux noted that she had had bruises around her neck from being choked out before she was stabbed—another similarity to the current killings that he couldn’t ignore. The strangulation wasn’t manual, though, so Ren’s hands couldn’t be compared to the bruises. It had been more of chokehold with an arm around the neck until the victim blacked out.

As he worked, Hux decided he would ask Dr. Mitaka to have a look at the autopsy notes from the Ren case and compare them to those he had seen over the course of the present investigation. If Mitaka could draw the same parallels that Hux was seeing, there might be grounds for further exploration by more official powers. Or at least Hux could bring the case to the task force’s attention.

At eleven o’clock, he went down to the twenty-four-hour convenience store around the corner from the hotel and bought a large coffee. He brought it back up to his room and, putting Ren’s files aside, took up the reports from the current case and set to working on them. He would be delivering his final profile to the task force tomorrow morning.

 

* * *

 

Ten people were seated in the operations room by ten o’clock the next day. Hux had passed out the three-page profile and allowed them to look cursorily over it before he began.

“Good morning,” he said. “I believe all of you know me at this point. We’ve convened today to go over the dossier on our killer that I’ve prepared. Some of this won’t come as a surprise to any of you, as you’ve discussed it with me before, but I want to summarize it all for us now. If you’ll look at the first page of the packet I gave you…”

Papers rustled, and Hux cleared his throat.

“The man we’re dealing with,” he said, “is Caucasian and approximately five-foot-nine to six-foot-three inches tall. He’s not a bodybuilder, but he’s strong enough to overpower and carry a slight young woman. He spends between three and four weeks surveilling a girl before he strikes, to ensure he’s aware of their patterns and movements. He’s meticulous and careful in his stalking, though we believe he drives a blue sedan.

“He has a victim type, which we’re all familiar with. He’s an older man, maybe even in his forties. He’s deft at picking locks and otherwise breaking and entering. These might have come from a history of petty crime as a juvenile, any records of which would have been expunged at this point. While, for a time, I believe he might have a restraining order or some other stalking charge in his rap sheet, I now doubt that. He’s just too careful to have been caught.

“We investigated the prospect that he might work in the medical profession, but I do not believe he does. His present MO is very specific, with a set number of wounds made with exacting precision. I believe he has developed this skill through independent anatomical research. As to his supply of medical-grade soap, it’s something he could order online from a bulk supplier.”

Hux turned to the next page of his report. “The cleaning and posing of the bodies is an incredibly important ritual to him. I suspect that there is something from his past that he is recreating in placing them on the bed in their undergarments. Maybe an incident with a friend or sister. I don’t have anything concrete to tell you on that front. But the cleaning does suggest some manner of emotional connection to them, wanting to present them respectfully. This is why he tidies their beds and brushes their hair. All of their makeup is washed away, though none of them wore a great deal to begin with. I posit that he believes this makes them purer than more ‘painted’ women.

“He leaves no trace at the scenes, which means he’s conscious of evidence trails. It was possible he was a member of law enforcement, but I don’t think that’s the case. Again, I believe this is the product of extensive research and reading. He spent a great deal of time perfecting his craft.” Hux paused, delivering slowly the next conclusion: “These are not his first killings. He’s been practicing for this for years, perhaps. I doubt he was killing animals as a youth—he’s too controlled—but this compulsion came on later in life and strongly enough to put plans into action.

“I believe we could track a previous case to this man. Maybe one murder, maybe multiple. We might find that case here in Raleigh, but it’s possible he’s from elsewhere.”

Murmurs went through the room; this was news to everyone. Detective Rey raised her hand. “Do you have a case in mind?” she asked.

“I might have an idea,” Hux replied, “but—”

“Tell us,” said Phasma. “We need to know everything.”

Hux braced, his grip on the papers in his hands tightening. “There was a series of murders in Charlotte four years ago,” he began.

“Unsolved?” Detective Finn asked.

Hux shook his head. “No. A man was tried and prosecuted for them, but they are uncannily similar to these current murders.”

Poe, who was seated at the front of the room, said, “You think this is a copycat?”

“Not exactly,” said Hux. “The murders in 2014 were like a rough sketch of today’s killings. Practice runs, if you will.”

“How’d you find this case?” Phasma asked.

“I was doing independent research for my book. The perpetrator in question was one I had intended to interview. I was already familiar with his case.”

“Who is it?” said Poe.

Hux replied, “Benjamin Solo, alias Kylo Ren.” If he expected recognition, he didn’t get it immediately. He continued, “Three women in Charlotte. All stabbed.”

“And left in the shower,” Rey said. “I remember that one. It was all over the news when I was still a uniform. But they pinned Ren hard. They really had him. You think he’s on death row and he’s really innocent?”

“I’m afraid he’s deceased,” said Hux. “He was killed in a prison brawl a week ago. But the more I study the case, yes, the more I believe he was falsely accused and convicted of someone else’s crimes.” Hurriedly: “I’ve dropped off some of the reports from the medical examiner in Charlotte to Dr. Mitaka. He’s looking over them today to corroborate my findings about the similarities in the stabbings.”

Finn sat forward in his seat, looking hard at Hux. “You’re serious about this? You’re calling into question a major investigation and conviction. If we drag that into our work right now and the press gets wind of it, it’s going to blow up. A false accusation and a history of murders for our current perp is the kind of stuff they eat right up.”

“I’m aware of that,” Hux said. “That’s why I intended to keep it under wraps until I was more certain there was support for my theory.”

“Well,” said Phasma, “it’s better it’s out in the open amongst us, anyway. We’ll be able to work with you to figure it out.” She gave him wry smile. “I assume you’ve already got all the evidence about the Ren killings.”

“I do,” Hux said. “I’ll bring them from the hotel, save for the reports Dr. Mitaka has.”

Poe said, “If this is true, we’re going to have a real problem. This Ren guy turns out to be innocent, but got killed inside...the wrongful death suits are going to be piling up.”

“That’s Charlotte PD’s problem,” said Rey. “We just have to get this case solved. If the Ren thing turns out, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” She turned to Hux. “Is there anything else we need to know right now, Dr. Hux?”

“The rest is in the dossier,” he said. “Thank you for your attention.”

Chairs scraped across the floor as people rose and made their way out of the room. Phasma and Poe lingered, cornering Hux. He waited for the attack.

“This is a pretty big stretch, Hux,” Phasma said. “You’re taking a risk bringing another case into this one.”

“I know,” Hux sighed, “but they are almost comparable. I know pinning the Ren murders on someone else isn’t going to be easy, but I have to go with my gut on this. Don’t you police officers always say ‘follow your gut?’”

“Sometimes,” said Poe. “And maybe you’re onto something. We’ll look into it. Did Dr. Mitaka say when he’d be done with those autopsy reports you gave him?”

“He said he had the morning free,” Hux replied. “I could go down and ask him now.”

“Mind it I come along?” Poe asked.

Hux inclined his head. “Of course not.”

The morgue was in the basement of the station; Poe and Hux had to take a secure elevator to get there. Dr. Mitaka was sitting at his desk in the small office just beyond the main autopsy room when they arrived.

“Hi!” he said brightly. “You’re ready for those files.” He retrieved a stack of papers from beside his computer keyboard and handed them to Hux. “Interesting case, and I definitely see the parallels you’re seeing.”

Hux raised his brows. “You do?”

“Sure,” said Mitaka. “The wounds are less carefully placed and the weapons are different, but it smacks of a familiar hand. You said this could be this man’s first attempts? I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Hux nearly deflated with relief; he wasn’t imagining things. “He could have grown and advanced into this new pattern.”

Mitaka nodded, adjusting the fall of his lab coat. “You’re the profiler, but the bodies don’t lie. It could have happened.”

“May I see the files?” Poe asked. Hux handed them over and Poe flipped the folder open, gaze darting over the pages inside.

“This could really complicate things if you’re right, eh?” Mitaka said to Hux. “A murderer with a long history across the state. Makes for an exciting story.”

“Yes, we’ll have to keep a lid on it for the time being,” said Hux. “I’ll appreciate your discretion on the matter.”

Mitaka waved him off. “Certainly. Nothing leaves this room.” To Poe: “You see it, don’t you?”

 “It’s a little too eerie to ignore, yeah,” said Poe. “This was a pretty lucky thing you discovered, Hux. No way we would have known if you hadn’t already picked up on this case.” He shot Hux a smile. “You really are a great asset to this team.”

“I’m glad to be of help,” Hux said.

Closing the file, Poe said, “Are we done here? Phasma probably needs us upstairs. And she’ll want to know what Dr. Mitaka found.”

“I believe we are,” Hux replied. “Thank you, Dr. Mitaka, for your expertise in this matter.”

Mitaka gave him a last wave as he and Poe left the morgue.

When they got into the elevator and the doors were closed in front of them, Poe said, “You doing okay? There’s about to be a lot of pressure on you if we have to connect these murders to the Ren killings. You ready to stay on for a while?”

“I am,” Hux said. “I admit, I enjoy this work.”

Poe bumped his shoulder against Hux’s. “Can’t say I’m disappointed to see you around more.” At Hux’s smile, he said, “Maybe I could take you out for dinner sometime soon?”

“I would like that,” Hux said.

The elevator dinged and they stepped back out onto the first floor of the station. Phasma was in the operations room. “Well?” she said.

Hux delivered Dr. Mitaka’s conclusions. Phasma fisted her hands and then released them.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll move forward with this theory of the Ren case.” She rounded on Hux. “But I want you out of it for the weekend. You should go home and take a break. We’ll do our own analysis of the Ren files and brief you on Monday.”

Hux was reluctant to leave in the middle of the case, but he hadn’t been to check on his house in several weeks. He wouldn’t mind a brief trip back to Pittsboro. “All right,” he said. “I understand. Shall I stay the rest of the day here and then leave this evening?”

“Sounds fine to me,” said Phasma. She went to the table and slid a file toward him. “Might as well work until five, right?”

Hux took the file, putting thoughts of sleeping in his own bed from his mind, for now.


	4. Chapter 4

Among the best features of Hux’s home was the deep claw-footed bathtub in the master bathroom. Its lion’s feet scratched at the hardwood beneath it: fine-grained and old flooring that was just a bit worn with use, but still shone when it was polished. Hux had laid a plush green mat on the floor to protect it from water, which matched the fluffy towels. They were an indulgence and didn’t come cheap from his favorite linens retailer. One hung now over the bar by the foot of the tub, where the wraparound shower curtain was tucked out of the way. Hux’s toes touched the lip there, just sticking out of the hot water in which he was soaking.

He had left Raleigh at half-past five and pulled into the quarter-mile gravel driveway of his house two hours later; traffic by the exits for Chapel Hill had stalled him somewhat. The wood polish scent of the house greeted him as he walked in, the cleaners having come through the day before. Dying summer light pooled on the carpets in the living room, their edges not quite touching the overstuffed leather sofa. Hux had left a book on the side table, and it lay seemingly undisturbed there. He knew better, though; the cleaners had wiped the surface under it and replaced it just as it had been.

The stairs to the second floor were near the centerline of the house, the kitchen just behind them. Hux didn’t need to stop there; the task force had ordered Chinese takeout before he had left. There were no perishables in his refrigerator anyway; he hadn’t been home in over three weeks. Carrying his heavy suitcase up to the second floor, he had made straight for his bedroom. He had decorated with the help of a designer after Rae had passed away, and the room was appropriately cozy for a country house, though not as rustic as Vera’s bed and breakfast.

His sleigh bed was deep red-brown cherry wood and had been purchased new. The chests of drawers—one tall with six drawers and the other waist-height with a mirror mounted above it—were antique, bought from an estate sale. The closet he had had remodeled to be deeper and more spacious. He didn’t waste money on expensive clothes, but he took pride in his appearance and had numerous investment pieces he could mix and match.

He had set his suitcase down at the foot of the bed, but hadn’t bothered with it right away. Instead, he had flicked on the light in the bathroom and begun to fill the tub. A glass of red wine waited next to the bottle he had brought from downstairs, and sinking up to his nose in the bathwater, he had relaxed.

He had been soaking now for almost an hour, sipping at the wine and letting himself decompress after so long away and so much pressure with the case. _The Sound and the Fury_ was lying on the floor beside the tub, but he hadn’t touched it. He was almost disinclined to read more after Ren’s having read it aloud to him in his hotel room three days ago. God, it seemed much longer than that. In fact, his entire acquaintance with Ren impressed upon him that they had known each other for some time, though it had been less than a full week.

As the wine in his glass slowly disappeared, he reached for the bottle to pour himself another. The fragrant red splashed into the bowl, nearly spilling over the side. Hux set the bottle—half empty now—back onto the floor and was picking up the glass when he heard, “Hey, Doc. Nice place.” The glass fell from his fingers as he started and broke on the floor, a dark puddle spreading across the hardwood.

“Oh, shit,” Kylo Ren said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hux took a few seconds to recover before he truly registered Ren’s presence. He stood by the firmly closed bathroom door, dressed in weathered jeans with a hole in the left knee and a plaid button-up open to reveal a black undershirt beneath. The asymmetry of his features was thrown into relief by the dim one-sided lighting from the vanity. His long nose cast a shadow on his cheek, which seemed, for a moment, more solid than he usually appeared in his spirit form. He looked at once awkwardly put together and carefully sculpted to lend him an air of inscrutability. If his apology was genuine, his face didn’t show it.

“Well, you certainly did,” Hux said tersely. He glowered down at the mess of wine and glass. Thankfully, the varnish would protect the wood from stains.

Ren shifted his weight back into the heels of his tattered black trainers, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sorry,” he said. “But I can’t really knock.”

Hux had to tamp down a measure of annoyance and a deep sigh. “Well, I used to be alerted by the nausea, but it seems that’s gone away when it comes to you.” He had to appreciate that; he hated being sick to his stomach, even if he was used to it, to a point.

“That’s a good thing, I guess?” said Ren.

“Yes.” Hux leaned on the lip of the tub, folding his arms. He was aware that he was completely naked and there was nothing in the water to obscure his body, but Ren wasn’t close enough to get a good look. “So, I see you did not cross over with Vanessa. What happened?”

“Not much, honestly,” Ren replied. “Through the light was limbo again. The girl was gone. I don’t think I’m allowed to take her door.”

“Apparently not,” said Hux. “Are you disappointed?”

Lowering his head brought Ren’s hair around his face, obscuring him. “A little. But I’m also kind of okay with it? Maz said I still have ‘unfinished business.’” His gaze flicked up to Hux, probing. “And I didn’t get to say goodbye to you.”

Hux had thought much the same thing, but he said nothing of it, instead just regarding Ren steadily. “You didn’t come back earlier in the day today?”

“No,” Ren said. “I needed to do some thinking on my own for a while. I camped out in my apartment.”

“Are you all right?” Hux asked.

Ren nodded shallowly. “Yeah. This afterlife just takes some getting used to, is all.”

The word choice was so unusual but said so casually. Ren really did have a remarkable adaptability and knack for taking on all manner of situations with striking grace. That wasn’t something most spirits managed—even if Hux had only seen them for a short time.

“So, this is your house, huh?” Ren said with an appreciative glance around the bathroom. “It’s nice. Like you said, though: big for one person.”

“There’s two of us right now,” said Hux with an arch half-smile. “You’re welcome to the guest room while you’re here.”

Ren’s laugh had him turning into the light, which illuminated his face and banished the gloominess of the shadows. “That’s nice of you, Doc. I haven’t been anyone’s houseguest in a long time. But I don’t take up much space, anymore.”

Hux chuckled. “No, I suppose you don’t, but if you’re not inclined to return to limbo, you can sleep here.”

“Well, that’s a funny thing,” said Ren, his short fingernails scratching at his chin. “I don’t really need to sleep. I don’t get tired. Bored, yes, but tired? Nope. I’ve been flying through my book collection since I got back to my place. Beat a couple of video games already, too.”

“Fascinating,” Hux said. “I could use that kind of energy.” As if to illustrate the point, he had to stifle a yawn. It was past nine o’clock and the heat of the bath and the wine always made him sleepy. It was time he got out. The mess on the floor needed cleaning up, too.

To Ren he said, “Turn around, will you? I’m standing up.”

Ren grinned. “You shy, Doc?”

Hux shot him an admonishing frown. “I’m not going to let you ogle me, Kylo. I have some manner of dignity. Shouldn’t you?”

“Okay, all right,” Ren said, holding up his hands defensively. “I’ll turn around.” He did, facing the door. “Do I have to close my eyes, too?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hux said as he climbed out of the bath onto the soft mat and grabbed for his towel. He made should have made quick work of drying off, but found himself impishly taking his time—making Ren wait with his back turned and imagining what Hux was doing.

Unfortunately, as Hux caught Ren’s reflection in the mirror above the pedestal sink, he realized he wasn’t imagining anything at all; he was watching Hux very blatantly in the mirror. Hux clutched the towel to his front, hiding his chest, stomach, and groin. The hissed reproof was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say it. He wrapped the towel hurriedly around his waist, charging through Ren’s form to take an abused rag from the linen closet in the hall with which to clean up the wine.

Ren was standing beside the mess when Hux returned, wastebasket from by the toilet in hand. Hux knelt on the mat and began to pick the glass out of the wine. When it was all in the wastebasket, he mopped up the liquid. Ren stood by as he did it, saying, “Sorry I can’t help. It was my fault, after all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Hux. “I was the one who jumped and dropped the bloody thing.” He left the sodden rag in the sink, turning on the water to rinse it out, before heading to his bedroom to put on some clothing. He paused to make sure Ren hadn’t followed him before discarding his towel and donning a pair of teal boxer shorts and a black t-shirt. He found Ren still in the bathroom, now sitting on the lip of the tub.

Hux turned off the water, squeezed out the rag, and then laid it over the faucet in the tub to drip dry. He took his comb from the cabinet behind the mirror and ran it through his damp hair. “Are you just going to watch?” he asked Ren.

“It’s a nice show,” Ren replied. “You actually look relaxed. Clearly alcohol and a hot bath do wonders for you. If only I could give you that massage now.”

Hux snorted. “Don’t push your luck.” He picked up the bottle of wine and his copy of _The Sound and the Fury_ and carried them out into the hall. “Come downstairs for a bit?” he asked.

Ren followed him soundlessly down the stairs. They had once creaked, but they had been redone during his renovations of the house. In the kitchen, he took another glass from the cabinet and poured the remainder of the wine into it. It was too much to be decorous, but he didn’t think Ren would be offended.

Hux turned on the two living room lamps when he got there and then seated himself comfortably on the sofa. He set _The Sound and the Fury_ on top of the other book he had left on the side table. “Would you like to hear about the case?” Hux said.

“Sure.” Ren took up the place beside him on the sofa, though it didn’t dip with his weight; he weighed nothing in this form.

Hux told him cursorily what they had discovered after he had disappeared at Vanessa’s apartment, but he lingered on how he had informed the task force of the parallels between Ren’s case and the current murders. He might have expected Ren to be pleased that he had brought it up, but Ren frowned deeply.

“What is it?” Hux asked.

“I hate having all this stuff dredged up,” Ren replied. “People are going to be talking about me like I killed three women again. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to hear it anymore.” His discontent all but radiated from him. “You have no idea what it’s like to have lies upon lies told about you right in front of your face, in front of millions of people on TV. I was barely keeping it together by the end of the trial. I used to hole up in my cell and just stare at the wall. I probably would have cried, too, if I wouldn’t have gotten the shit kicked out of me. I hated prison. I really hated it.”

Hux had very little consolation to offer. Any “I’m sorry” would have fallen flat and hollow. “Did you have to do anything untoward to make it inside?”

Ren eyed him sidelong. “I didn’t find myself dropping the soap, if that’s what you’re asking, but I had to play tough. The murders got me some respect, but I just tried to keep to myself. I got a reputation for it and most people left me alone.”

“But who would have stabbed you then?” said Hux. “If you didn’t have any enemies in the prison, what reason would they have had to hurt you?”

“I helped a couple of guys from one of the crews,” Ren said. “It was stupid and it got me killed by the opposing gang. At least that’s what I heard when I was haunting the cell block. The guards couldn’t identify exactly who did it, but they put five people from both gangs into the hole for a month.”

“Solitary confinement?” Hux said.

“Yeah. I never did a stint there myself, but I’ve heard it’s bad.”

Hux took a sip of his wine, looking through the dark living room window as if he could see the trees outside. There was barely any moon tonight.

“Anyway,” Ren continued, “I know you had to bring it up eventually, but I really don’t want to be around to hear them talking about me.”

“You don’t have to be,” Hux said. “If you come to see me, come at night, when we’re done working for the day.”

Ren lifted his arm and set it on the back of the sofa behind Hux’s head. “Thanks, Hux,” he said. “It’s nice to have some company. I was never alone in prison and for a minute it was nice to have my apartment back in limbo, but I like being around you.”

Though Hux couldn’t feel him, he shifted infinitesimally closer into the crook of his arm. “I’ve not had someone around this much in a long time,” he admitted. “It nice for me, too.”

Ren was thoughtful, his expression impassive. His eyes, though, were bright and searching; he studied Hux, who wasn’t sure what he wanted to—or could—see in him.

After a time, Ren asked, “You said you didn’t live here as a kid. It was your godmother’s house?”

“Yes,” Hux replied, “but I did spend a great deal of time here during my summer vacations from school. My father wanted to be rid of me and I wanted to be gone, so I came to stay with Rae. She had been managing editor at the _News and Observer_ for many years and lived in Raleigh, but she decided to retire to this house. She never married, but had a great many friends who came to stay with her. I met them while I was in residence.”

“What did you do during your summers?”

“Attempted to garden. Learned to cook. Read. Rae would always take me for a week to the mountains, too. We would hike and eat and she would sneak me wine at the restaurants.” He remembered those holidays very fondly, far more so than he did the trips back to England with his father. “There’s a wonderful used bookshop in Asheville. Two storeys and they have truffles and champagne, coffee and tea. For someone who loves to read as much as you do, I think you would have loved it there.”

“I’ve been there,” said Ren. “My dad was a big fan of Asheville, even if he always said people were too crunchy granola. We used to go to concerts and comedy shows there, usually on my dime. But we backpacked and camped out, too. I’ll show you the signed editions I got at that store sometime when you’re at my place.”

“You assume I’m going to be there again,” Hux said, eyes cast down at his wine glass. He saw his sober expression reflected there. “I don’t know how to get into limbo by choice. It just happens.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” Ren crossed his legs, tipping himself toward Hux. “Did you ever talk to Maz about it?”

“Briefly,” Hux replied. “When I was in the shop last, she showed me an amulet that’s supposed to bring me closer to the spirit realm. Maybe that would help me enter limbo more easily. Or perhaps not. I’m not certain.”

Ren asked, “Would you want that?”

Hux chose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t object to it. Though as far as I know, you’re the only person I can visit there.”

“Is that a problem?” said Ren. His proximity and the bow of his body made it seem like he was closing in on Hux. But Hux wasn’t threatened; he was drawn, despite his better judgment.

“No,” Hux said. “I’d like to see you there again.”

Ren, bold as ever, set his hand on Hux’s thigh. “Maybe it’s not a good idea.”

Hux looked down at the hand and then back up at Ren. “Why?”

“Because I can touch you there,” Ren said. “I can feel how warm you are. Your hair looks soft. I could find out for myself if we were there.” From behind, his transparent hand brushed over Hux’s head, but neither of them felt a thing.

Hux wanted to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t going anywhere, but the words stuck in his mouth. He kept his eyes on Ren’s. There was a distinct tensity between them that their barrier of life and death made both more concrete and more tenuous: Hux felt the pull to Ren more clearly here than he had before, and yet he was never more aware of what kept them apart than he was as Ren’s hand came to cup his cheek without even the hint of sensation.

“I could kiss you there,” Ren said.

“You’re relentless,” Hux murmured, his amusement tempered with growing affection. “Do you really want that so much?”

Ren put a thumb over Hux’s lips. “I want it even more. You’ve got me all tied up in knots, Doc. I should be thinking about my case—about moving on—but then there’s you. I can’t get you out of my head.” He averted his eyes, lowering his hand. “This whole thing is probably all my fault. I know there’s the part about you helping me clear my name and all, but that’s not the real reason I’m holding on. I’ve got this stupid, burning hope that you might have me.”

He shifted away from Hux, parting his knees to rest his elbows on them. “I’m not much to look at and I’m not PhD material and I know you’re out of my league, but, Doc, _I want it_.”

Hux saw him only in profile, his hair hiding his face, save for the tip of his nose. It was as if saying these things aloud pained him. Perhaps it was from already having been told it couldn’t happen and yet persisting, and with even more fervor than before. Hux hadn’t been spoken to like this in his life. Poe had expressed his interest in forthright terms, but it had been delivered with a playful smile. Ren’s jokes had faded into this, and it startled Hux to see.

If he could have, Hux would have set a hand on Ren’s broad back to soothe him, but he could not. He turned to face him, though, saying quietly, “Kylo, look at me.”

Ren lifted his head slowly, as if it weighed a great deal, plaintively peering up at Hux through eyes that seemed sunken. “I already feel like an idiot for spewing all that.”

“Don’t,” Hux said. “I appreciate that you were honest with me. And”—he tried to convey a little levity—“I’m very flattered.”

Ren groaned. “‘Flattered.’ Sounds like a nice way to let someone down, but hell if it doesn’t sting.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hux amended. “I _am_...well, how can I say it that it won’t upset you?” He searched for something blindly, struggling with phrasing. “Oh, hell. Kylo, I _would_ have you. At least go out with you, let you show me that good time you promised. You’re quite something to look at, in fact, and nobody’s ever made the kind of effort you have to...win me. I can’t just ignore that.”

Ren sat up more, some confidence returning to his posture.

Hux said, “This is not an easy circumstance, and it’s unlikely anything will come of it, but if you want to spend more time together, we can.”

“I know it’s pretty crazy,” Ren said, “but if you’ll give me even a little bit of a chance, I’ll take it.”

Hux offered a close-lipped smile. “May I ask you to do something for me, then?”

“Of course.”

Reaching for the side table, Hux picked up _The Sound and the Fury_. “Read to me?”

The smile that split Ren’s face was radiant. “Sure thing, Doc,” he said. “You just turn the pages.”

They settled into the sofa together, Hux holding the book out as Ren began to read aloud, and they didn’t stop until the grandfather clock in the entryway chimed midnight.

Ren paused as the quiet bells rang. “That enough for tonight?” he asked.

“We’ll pick up tomorrow,” Hux replied. With stiff muscles, he pried himself up and stretched. To Ren: “Shall I show you to your bedroom?”

Ren shook his head. “I’ll go to my own place for the night. But can I come back tomorrow?”

Hux nodded. “I’m going for a run in the morning, but you’re welcome to join me for breakfast. At least you can sit with me while I eat.”

“I’ll do that, Doc,” Ren said. Though there was nothing to feel, he touched Hux’s hand before he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

In the summer, Hux had to get up at half-past five to run before the heat got too oppressive to manage. He did the trail near the house—the one that featured so often in his fantasies—in that half hour before six. Afterward, he went straight up for a shower. He was shaving when Ren appeared in the mirror behind him.

“Morning, Doc,” he said with a broad grin. When he smiled, his chin would dip down and wrinkle, despite the definition in his upper jaw. It was an affable flaw that might be considered unattractive, but Hux found it endearing. The bones of his face were still prominent and strong, just complimented by unexpected softness. “I have to admit, I don’t mind not having to shave anymore.” He rubbed his palm along the side of his face. “It just doesn’t seem to grow. You think I would have an eternal beard if I had died with one?”

Hux eyed him through the reflection. “I suspect you might,” he said, even as he made a face to stretch his upper lip to shave it. “Although if you can change your clothes, perhaps you could have shaved, too.”

Ren pursed his lips and tapped them with the flat of his thumb. “Could be. I don’t look so good with a beard, though. Always grows in a little straggly. Had a goatee and mustache once, though. That wasn’t so bad.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing pictures of you from before,” Hux said as the razor scraped along his jaw, shaving cream leaving a little trail behind on clean skin.

“I have a whole hard drive full of them at my apartment,” said Ren. He had gone over to the toilet and sat down on the closed lid. Hux could only see him out of the corner of his eye. “You can go through them all you want.”

“I hope there are a few that are embarrassing,” Hux teased.

Ren huffed. “More than a few. I never had frosted tips, but I suffered through early 2000s fashion. We were all casualties of that, I’m pretty sure.”

The photos on Hux’s own computer were proof he had gone through same ordeal, though he was five years older than Ren was.

“Who took the pictures of you?” he asked. “Friends? Your parents?”

Ren replied, “Some of both, I guess. Why?”

Hux rinsed his razor in the pool of foggy water in the sink before returning it to his face. “Adolescent relationships say a lot about the kind of adults we become. Lonely teenagers, or those who are bullied, tend to have different psychological makeups than those who were surrounded by friends or family. You are an only child. Some make up for that by making numerous friends. Others appreciate the solitude.”

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, Doc?” Ren said. There wasn’t hostility in his tone, but it was wary.

“I’m trying to get to know you better,” said Hux, “but perhaps I could have phrased my answer less like I was trying to ‘analyze’ you. I’m just attempting to picture the kind of person you were in your adolescence.” He glanced toward the toilet and saw Ren watching him cagily. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t,” Ren said. “I mean, you’re going to do your psychologist stuff in your head anyway, so I might as well just play along.”

Hux paused in his shaving to face him. He knew he looked foolish with half of his face still covered in shaving cream, but he said, “I’ll do my best not to, if it bothers you.”

Ren rubbed his thighs; he wore the same battered jeans at he had worn yesterday. “No, it’s fine. You’re not here to do a profile on me.”

“I am most assuredly not,” Hux said. “Forgive me if my phrasing is poor, but I promise you I’m just trying to know you.” He opened his free hand, solicitous. “Are we not supposed to learn about each other to explore...whatever it is between us?”

Ren sniffed, scratching under his nose, but said, “Yeah, sure we are.” He tipped his head back, baring his throat and prominent Adam’s apple. “So, what was it you wanted to know? Who took the pictures of me, or whether I was a lonely kid?”

“Both, I suppose,” Hux replied, turning back to the mirror to finish his shaving.

“Well, my mom was the one with the camera when I was a kid. She’s got all kinds of shots of me playing in the dirt and snow in Indiana. I spent a lot of time outdoors back then. We used to go on road trips, too, when my parents were still together. We’d stay at all kinds of national and state parks. I’ve been to almost every state in the continental U.S. I guess you could say I was closest to Mom and Dad until I was twelve or thirteen. My uncle was around, too. He used to be a rabbi when he was young, but I guess he had a crisis of faith or something and quit. I never got the details.”

Hux grabbed for a towel to wipe his face as he pulled the stopper on the drain. “Were you raised religious?”

“No,” said Ren. “We didn’t do that. We had barbecues with our neighbors on the weekends instead of temple. Although, we did throw a great Passover lunch.”

“But you knew about the Catholic purgatory,” Hux said. He had folded a shirt for himself on the toilet seat, which Ren was still occupying; he didn’t ask for it. “Have you studied religions?”

Ren shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there. Purgatory is from Dante. _The Divine Comedy_. You ever read it?”

“Actually, no,” Hux replied. “When did you?”

“High school. My English teacher recommended it to me. Mr. Foster. He was one of the people who suggested I go to school for literature. He might have been the one who planted the idea in my head.” Ren seemed a bit wistful, and decidedly fond. “I think he took the picture of me and Mom and Dad on the day I graduated, in my cap and gown and everything. You have one of those funny hats all the professors have?”

Hux’s doctoral regalia was hanging at the back of his closet, untouched since the ceremony in which he had received his PhD. “I do have one, yes,” he said. “I’ll show you the pictures.”

Ren waggled his brows. “How about a live show?”

Hux said firmly, “ _No_.”

“Okay, fine. Anyway, I had enough friends in high school. I never got picked on. I was too big and I ran too fast.”

“Track?”

“Cross-country.”

Hux nodded. “Did you keep in touch with your friends after you joined the Marines?”

“Not really,” Ren said. “Everybody scattered to different colleges. One other guy joined up, but with the Navy.”

“And what of friends in the service?” Hux asked.

“Well, I got along with everyone and we stuck together when we were deployed, but they stayed in when I got out, and…” He tipped his head to the side, allowing Hux to fill in the rest.

The lack of long-term relationships among friends suggested that Ren wasn’t good at forming emotional attachments. He clearly felt emotions deeply—his hate for prison, for example—but maintaining social bonds took a different kind of effort that some serial killers didn’t put in. Many of them were reclusive, or at least solitary. Social trauma was often a factor, but not in Ren’s case, if he wasn’t bullied or otherwise abused as a child.

“You’re thinking about this too hard, Doc,” he scolded. “I can see the wheels turning in there.”

“I’m sorry,” Hux said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to. But, if I may ask, did you have any romantic interests in your youth?”

Ren stuck his tongue in his cheek, waiting, and Hux let him take his time. Eventually, he said, “I messed around with people in high school—that’s where I found out I was bi—but I didn’t have a dream date to the prom. There was leave in the Marines and I picked up the usual kind of people you find in bars. ‘Romantic,’ though? I guess not.” He shifted his weight almost uncomfortably.

“Any particular reason?” Hux asked. At Ren’s incredulous look, he added, “I’m not profiling you. I just want to know”—he swallowed—“what kind of partner you might make.”

At that, Ren sat up, visibly keener. “I never really found anyone I wanted to be with,” he said. “I had fun and bought both girls and guys dinner, but nothing stuck. I never got invested.” He looked intently at Hux. “But I _can_ invest. At least I’m pretty sure.”

“I believe you,” Hux said. He felt a bit exposed standing shirtless, but Ren wasn’t looking at him with sexual interest—at least not at the moment.

“What’s your professional opinion of that part of me?” Ren asked.

“I thought you didn’t want that,” Hux replied.

Ren sighed. “Indulge me this once.”

Hux crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “In some cases, your lack of interest in commitment could be chalked up to your age. You’re not even thirty and most men today don’t settle down—if you can call it that—until their thirties. However, I don’t think it’s that.”

“No?”

“No. You’re not afraid of monogamy, as you were raised in a monogamous household, though perhaps you’re skeptical about the longevity of relationships, seeing as your parents divorced. You don’t require a romantic partner, but I believe you would be very fulfilled by it.” Hux forced himself to adopt his most detached, clinical tone. “Your interest in me seems to suggest that you’re drawn to someone who is even-tempered but high-achieving—stable. When you were younger, you really only frequented bars and restaurants to meet potential partners. People in those settings don’t tend to be the most settled. Not saying that’s ubiquitous, but in general. In me you’ve found someone who is more...together, especially more so than yourself.”

Ren had been nodding along as Hux spoke, but he stopped, gaze fixed, at that. “You saying I want a boyfriend who has his life together because I’m kind of a mess?”

Hux gave him a helpless look, hoping he had not gone too far. “You asked for my opinion.”

Ren barked a laugh. “I sure did, Doc, and I got it. It’s a pretty fair assessment, I guess. Though you’ve got more going for you than a nice house and a modest car.”

“Do tell,” said Hux.

“Sure, from the outside you look like you’ve got it all figured out,” Ren said, getting to his feet. “And maybe you do have yourself together, but you’re passionate. That’s more than ‘even-tempered.’ You light up when you work, and you’re good at it. And the house is great, but you’re never here. You’re at the right settling down age and you haven’t. Turn that expertise on yourself, Doc. Why don’t you have a nice husband and a dog?”

Hux frowned. He knew the answer to this, and unfortunately it was far too telling. But tit for tat. He replied, “I’m the classic case of marriage to my work. I grew up with a distant father who was just as married to his work as I am. We are painfully formal with each other and it makes it very difficult for me to form bonds that are not within certain bounds of decorum. I’m not an overtly affectionate man. My godmother was more open with me and gave the occasional hug, but she wasn’t touchy-feely, either. I keep not only physical distance but often emotional distance. It makes me a good scientist.”

Ren regarded him steadily, unmoving. “And what do you look for in a partner that you haven’t found?”

“I dated at university,” Hux said, though it was a feeble attempt to keep from directly answering. God, he didn’t want to admit that he was looking for a partner who would draw him out and be physical where he was not—open where he was closed. From what he had seen of Ren, he was exactly that. And, unsurprisingly, so was Poe Dameron.

“I didn’t ask you that,” Ren said. “But clearly they weren’t the right fit.”

“No,” Hux said. “I enjoyed their company, but those relationships were never meant to last. I’m afraid I’ll need someone who will tolerate my job and my dedication to it.”

Ren’s intensity decreased somewhat, his pointed gaze softening. “It’s good you have your priorities straight, Doc. I know I won’t get in the way of your work, not when I can watch you at it.”

Hux said, “Surely that will get boring after several years. Months. Weeks, even. You’d tire of it.”

“I think you underestimate my focus when I’m interested in something,” said Ren. His flirtatiousness had returned, it seemed. “I have a singular kind of attention.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Hux said.

Ren grinned. “Good, because I’m not going away for a while. I sure like the look of your stability, Doc.”

Hux laughed impetuously. “Thank you, Kylo.” Ducking around him, Hux grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head. “Now, I’m going to get some breakfast. Come down and pretend you can have some coffee?”

“I had some before I came,” Ren said. “Made it at my place. I can still eat there, if I want to. I never really get hungry, but there always seems to be beer and leftover pizza in the fridge. Coffee maker still works, too.”

“All right, then,” said Hux.

They left the bathroom and went down to the kitchen. Hux had dry goods, fortunately, so he set a pot of oatmeal to boil on the stove, bringing out honey and walnuts to put into it. He’d have to skip the milk. Ren leaned against the counter while Hux brewed coffee in his single-serve machine—at least he drank that black.

“What have you got planned for the day, Doc?” Ren asked.

Hux was stirring the oatmeal as it absorbed the water in the pot. “I need to work on my book. Most of my notes are still in Alderaan, but I have some things here that I can sort through. I have the literature review I need to complete.”

“Sounds pretty good,” said Ren. “You mind if I look over your shoulder, or would you rather I did something else?”

“Something else,” Hux replied. “I need to work on the draft by myself to keep my head on straight. You’re welcome to stay around the house for as long as you want, however. I have a selection of movies, though no cable or Netflix. I’m just not here enough for that.”

Ren didn’t seem annoyed. “I wouldn’t mind that. What have you got?”

Hux gestured with his coffee mug toward the living room bookcase, which was stocked with DVDs. Ren wandered over, looking at the selection. Hux had wide-ranging taste in film, from foreign and arthouse films to big-budget blockbusters. He had all of _Hannibal_ , of course, and several seasons of _Forensic Files_ from when he collected them in college.

“How am I not surprised you have _Midsomer Murders_?” Ren asked.

Hux replied testily, “Those are Rae’s, though we used to watch it together. Do you watch a great deal of BBC television?”

“Sure. It’s great stuff.” Hux agreed, so Ren added, “You sure you can’t sit down a watch a few of these with me?”

“Maybe later,” said Hux.

Ren said, “Well, can you come over here and pull down one of these cases for me and set it up. I know how, but…”

“Yes, I know.” Hux set his coffee down on the counter, removed the oatmeal from the stove, and went to pull the first collection of episodes from the shelf and put it into the DVD player. Ren flopped down on the couch as he did. Hux glared at his shoes on the furniture, but he wouldn’t be tracking any spirit dirt onto it. When Hux had selected the first episode, he returned to the kitchen to spoon his oatmeal into a bowl and take it to the dining room table, where he had put his laptop. He booted it up as his breakfast cooled.

The dialog and music from the living room were strangely comforting as he began to work; it made the house feel fuller, which it certainly did not when Hux was here alone. The company was pleasant, and when Hux was tired of his literature review, he could take Ren to the garden, or sit under the shade of an umbrella on the back porch and have Ren read to him again. They were nearly finished with the book, but there was quite a bit of Faulkner left to get through. The prospect of an afternoon together warmed him from the inside out, but for now, he focused on his writing.

 

* * *

 

Citronella candles were burning all around the porch that evening as Hux and Ren sat outside playing checkers. Hux had found an old board from his childhood hidden away in a closet and had taken it out for them. He had to move Ren’s black checkers for him, and he was generally doing so bitterly; they had played two games already and Ren had soundly beaten him both times.

“My mom was great at this game,” Ren explained. “We used to play all the time when I was a kid. She taught me all the tricks.”

“And it shows,” Hux grumbled, jumping his red checker three spaces.

“King me,” said Ren.

Hux moved the pieces and then picked up his wine—chilled white—and took a deep drink. “After this game, I’m throwing in the towel. You’re going to win again.”

“I don’t half-ass it, Doc.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “No, you certainly don’t.”

Ren’s third victory ended the evening—after all, the mosquitoes were starting to get bad enough that Hux wanted to go inside. He took his empty wine glass and the checkerboard, both of which he left on the kitchen island. He closed the French doors behind him, pulling gauzy white curtains over the glass. Ren lingered at the threshold of the kitchen, watching him move quietly around. Hux went to the refrigerator and drew out the wine to pour himself a last glass.

“It’s strange drinking alone,” Hux said. He laid the flat of his hand down on the granite countertop, a pleasant kind of cool against his skin. “You can’t bring anything out with you from your apartment?”

“Haven’t tried,” said Ren. “But I’m okay without. I don’t even know if I would be able to get drunk, anymore.”

Hux lifted a ruddy brow. “And what kind of man were you when you were drinking, Kylo?”

Ren pushed his hair back from his brow, five fingers spread wide to catch as much as possible. It was a habit Hux had noticed over the course of the day that gave away when he was thinking something over, stalling for time before he had to provide an answer. He was clever with his quips sometimes, but there were other moments when he was slow to reply.

“Maudlin,” Ren said at last, “and then angry if someone tried to interrupt my brooding. I drank the most right after I got out of the Marines. I had things I wanted to forget, but I ended up thinking about them more when I was drunk. The mood would hit me a few drinks in and I’d just want to sit in a corner. Didn’t go over well with friends who wanted to party. I, uh, got into a few fights because people wouldn’t leave me alone when I wanted to be.” There was the tic of pushing his hair back again, despite it already being away from his face. “I switched to beer after my dad bailed me out of jail the second time. Haven’t gotten really wrecked since.”

Hux had to tread lightly, but he asked, “Did you seek therapy after you returned from the Middle East? It can build coping skills for past trauma.”

Ren shook his head. “I didn’t really see the worst stuff. I got over most of it on my own. I told you I don’t really like shrinks.”

“You did, yes,” said Hux. “I’m glad you didn’t have to cope with a great deal of trauma from your combat tours.” That, too, was something that might have triggered an urge to kill, but Hux didn’t see it for Ren—and neither had his other psychologists during his trial.

“Me, too,” Ren said. “I had some buddies who didn’t come back the same. I was lucky.”

Hux struggled to picture him with a crew cut and a neat military cap, but he imagined there was photographic proof amongst the pictures he had said he had in his apartment in limbo. Ren had large ears that his long hair mostly hid, but when it was pulled back, Hux could see them clearly. In them was the same asymmetry as his face: a slight unevenness in their placement on either side of his head. However, they didn’t work to his detriment; none of his features did. Curiously assembled as he might have been, it all came together into a striking whole.

“What kind of drunk are you, Doc?” Ren asked to turn the tables. He didn’t like too much focus on himself for too long, Hux was realizing.

“An annoying one,” Hux replied. “I want everyone to dance. And then, when it gets late, I want to talk everyone’s ears off about some inane aspect of my work that would bore even a professional.” He remembered subjecting Phasma to just that several times over the course of their tenure at Arkanis, all of which he deeply regretted after she had told him how long he had rambled.

“You dance?” said Ren. He was doing his best to suppress a laugh and failing.

Hux tipped his wine glass toward him, accusatory. “Not anymore.”

“Shame,” Ren said. “I would have liked to have seen that.” He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “I would have let you drag me out on the floor.”

Just hazy enough from the wine, Hux gave him a lingering once-over. Ren preened under it, rolling his wide shoulders back and lifting his chin. Most of the time he didn’t like scrutiny, but at least this kind he appreciated.

“Perhaps I would have,” Hux said as he took a sip of his drink.

Ren’s smile was self-satisfied in the extreme, but he said, “So, what now?”

Hux considered. He had done a good deal of work during the morning, before stopping to run into town to buy a sandwich at the local deli. He had picked up a few groceries for a simple dinner that night, too. Ren had come along, chattering at him despite the fact that Hux couldn’t talk to him in public. Ren hadn’t seemed to mind the one-sided conversation, but Hux had been relieved to be able to speak again when they got back into his Civic.

Ren had recounted some of the highlights of _Midsomer Murders_ while Hux put a pre-marinated chicken breast into the oven to bake and chopped lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber for a salad. He had made a poor man’s vinaigrette with a dash of balsamic, olive oil, and salt and pepper. He had eaten standing in the kitchen—which both Rae and his father would have scolded him for—while Ren had continued to talk, changing from the topic of BBC television to other movies he liked. He had been waxing on about it he had first mentioned his penchant for checkers. That had decided how they would spend the rest of the late evening.

Hux recalled now, though, that Ren was quite fond of Hitchcock, and he wouldn’t mind one of his films, either.  “I thought I might join you for a movie,” Hux replied, “if you’re not too bored with watching things.”

“I might need a change of pace,” said Ren, “but I’m good with that. What do you want to watch?”

Hux went into the living room, flicking the lamps on as he did, and perused the shelf of DVDs. He selected an old favorite: _Rear Window_. Ren smiled when he saw it and went straight to the sofa. Hux joined him after he had put the movie on, nestling into the elbow and crossing his legs. He had left his flip flops by the porch door. Somehow, Ren’s shoes were gone, too, baring his high-arched, long-toed feet. He shifted down to lie on the sofa cushions, putting those translucent feet right into Hux’s lap. Hux didn’t protest.

“They really just don’t film movies this way anymore,” he said as the opening shots crossed the screen.

“Are you going to talk through the whole thing?” Hux asked. He was teasing, but there was an edge to it; he did like to concentrate on films he was watching.

Ren narrowed his eyes at him, but said nothing else, turning to face the TV. Jeff, confined to his wheelchair with a broken leg, was still only just beginning to observe his neighbors in Greenwich Village when Hux’s eyelids began to droop. He set his wine down on the side table and thought he’d just close them for a moment.

 

* * *

 

Limbo was neither hot nor cold; it just seemed to exist without a climate. Hux was standing in the gray nothingness, barefoot and in the linen trousers and button-up he had been wearing most of the day. At first there was little but liquid mist to see, but as he began to walk in search of some landmark—as he always did—he saw a familiar door appear a few hundred paces away. Soon enough, he was in front of it, raising his fist to knock with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. If Ren was manifested in the physical realm, maybe he wouldn’t be here—instead watching the movie in Hux’s living room. But if he was here, it put them together in a place where the rules of the physical were different. As Ren had suggested, they could touch each other here, and Hux was fairly certain that if afforded the opportunity, Ren would take it.

Hux rapped sharply on the door four times and waited. Scant seconds later, Ren opened the door wide, beaming as he saw Hux standing outside.

“Hey,” he said. “I was hoping I might see you tonight. Come in.” He moved out of the way to permit Hux entry into his small apartment. It was very much the same, but there was an open book on the bed and one side of the duvet was wrinkled from Ren having lain there. It was strange to see him corporeal and able to interact with their environment. “You passed right out during the movie, huh?” he asked, smile crooked and mischievous.

“I’m afraid so,” Hux replied. He had stopped at the center of the room, unsure where to go. “I must have been more tired than I expected.”

“You worked hard today,” said Ren. He was standing across from Hux, about three feet away and seemingly at as much of a loss as Hux was for what to do in this situation. He settled on being a host: “Can I get you something to drink? Since you left your wine with your body.”

“Do you have anything but beer?” said Hux.

Ren opened his refrigerator and peered inside. “Afraid not. You want some water?”

“I’m all right.” Curious, Hux wandered over to the nearest bookshelf, looking over the volumes crammed upright and sideways onto the shelves. There was science fiction, biography, and what looked to be historical fiction of the Second World War. Some books were hardcover with dust covers turned white at the edges and others were paperbacks with their edges splitting and curling. “You really do have wide-ranging taste,” he said to Ren.

“I’ve always read anything I can get my hands on.” Ren was close behind him quite suddenly and Hux nearly jumped out of his skin when a long arm snaked around his waist and Ren pressed himself against Hux’s back. He spoke in Hux’s ear: “What do you like to read, Hux?”

The tickle of his breath sent a shock of sensation down Hux’s spine. Ren was solid and warm against him, his arm holding Hux firmly. If he wanted someone who was physical where he was not, he had gotten it.

“I’ve always favored nonfiction,” Hux managed to say despite the thump of his heart—nerves he was unaccustomed to. “History and biography. Science, too. Of course the classic works of psychology, and the newer publications. I read a great number of journal articles.” Now he was rambling.

Ren’s chin came to rest on his shoulder. “But you like the Faulkner.”

“I do,” said Hux. His pulse thrummed with how Ren seemed to be gradually wrapping himself around him.

He thought Ren was backing off a moment later, but with gentle insistence, Ren guided Hux around to face him, bringing them close together. Ren was intent, his gaze on Hux’s face. Hux let out a soft sigh as Ren raised a hand to the back of his head and stroked his hair.

“Soft,” Ren said. “Just like I thought.”

Hux could get used to the gentle touches. It seemed incongruous with Ren’s strength and size, but he handled Hux carefully, though not with any timidity. He was deliberate, and it was heading swiftly down the path to something more. Hux was trapped between wanting and not, unsure what he was committing to—if anything—if Ren took this further.

Ren moved his hand around to Hux’s face, cupping his reddened cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you, Doc,” he said.

Hux offered no protest as Ren turned his head just slightly to keep their noses from bumping as he kissed Hux’s mouth. It was a shy kiss, far less assured than Ren had sounded when he declared his intentions. Hux kept his eyes open for a second or two to see Ren’s reaction, but as Ren grew bolder and pressed harder, Hux closed them. He slipped into the kiss. Ren’s lips were smooth and full, parted just slightly. Hux’s arms, which had been hanging at his sides, came around Ren’s shoulders in silent encouragement. Hux had not been kissed in quite some time, and certainly not this well.

Ren made a deep humming sound in his chest as soon as Hux embraced him, pulling him in with broad hands at the small of his back. Hux went pliant to allow Ren to move him; his spine curving to bring him closer. Ren took it for signal to go further, tonguing Hux’s lower lip until he opened for him.

It was so quiet in the little apartment that Hux could hear the slick sounds of their mouths as they kissed—as Ren swept the inside of Hux’s mouth with his tongue, coaxing Hux’s up to meet him. Hux was mildly ashamed at how strongly he reacted: his body was burning and sensitive to all the places were Ren touched him; the blood was dropping from his stomach to his cock. That was the lack of control teenagers had, not a man of thirty-four. And yet Ren had him trembling and clinging to him to keep himself upright.

Hux finally had to pull away when he was struggling to breathe. He put a small space between them to recover, but Ren pressed his forehead to Hux’s, keeping them in contact.

“Damn, Doc,” Ren murmured. “I was hoping that would be good, but I didn’t expect it to be _that_ good.”

A flare of indignance came to life in Hux’s stomach. “Oh, really?” he asked, snippy.

Ren backpedaled immediately. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that it was incredible. You kiss like you’re dying for it. It blew me away.”

“Oh,” said Hux, his temper cooling.

Ren moved in for a few quick pecks, his way of apologizing. “Want to come lie down?”

Hux hesitated, casting a glance toward the bed.

“I’m not going to try to get you naked,” Ren assured him. “I just want to get comfortable so we can neck like kids for an hour to so.”

Hux laughed lightly. “A whole hour?”

“Mmhm.” Ren nuzzled his neck with his long nose, dragging his lips there after. “Come on, Doc, don’t you want to make out for a while?”

“The cheek of you,” Hux said, though he tipped his head back to give Ren better access to his throat.

Ren chuckled, but drew back to pull Hux toward his bed. There was really no graceful way for them climb into it, but they did. Hux lay on his back as Ren braced his himself above him. Without preamble, they went right back to the deep kisses.

As promised, Ren didn’t make any attempt to remove Hux’s clothes, nor did he try to grope him; he was remarkably restrained. They shifted positions several times over the course of their prescribed hour. Once Hux was splayed out on top of Ren, who didn’t seem to mind his weight. Later, they were both on their sides, Hux’s leg between Ren’s. He could feel Ren’s erection against his thigh and was more than tempted to encourage him to rub against him, but he held back. He, too, was hard and let Ren know it with his cock against Ren’s hip, prominent through the thin linen of his trousers. Despite that, it was all very virtuous, even if the kisses were messy and demanding.

“Okay,” Ren said after a while. “I’ve got take a break. I’m already going to have the worst case of blue balls I’ve had since I was sixteen.”

Hux was feeling the pressure as well, denied the orgasm that would release it. He hoped it wouldn’t linger in his physical body when he returned to it. The same went for the bruises that were surely forming on his neck from Ren’s nips at the soft skin. It really was like they were teenagers, and it made him laugh.

Ren propped his head up on his hand. “Oh, you enjoy my suffering?”

“It’s not that,” said Hux. “This is all just very...innocent. We weren’t even dry humping, as adolescents would have.”

“Well, I’m not really in the mood to come in my pants,” Ren said. He gave Hux’s crotch a pointed look. “Unless you are.”

“Certainly not.”

Ren laid his free hand over Hux’s heart. “Save that for next time?”

Hux couldn’t help smiling; Ren was absolutely delightful when he wanted to be. “Perhaps,” he said. “Might I get that drink now?”

Ren ducked in for a last kiss before saying “Sure” and rolling onto his feet. He adjusted himself, making a pained face, before heading for the kitchen. Hux sat up in bed, putting a pillow behind his back and trying to make himself somewhat presentable: he straightened his shirt and finger-combed his hair. Ren returned with two opened beers, pressing one into Hux’s hand. Hux took a sip and found it dark, rich, and tasty. He sputtered, though, when Ren asked, “So, when did you lose your virginity?”

“I beg your pardon,” he said.

Ren gave him a wry look. “Not your kind of pillow talk, Doc?”

“Well, it’s just a rather personal question,” Hux said. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” Ren replied. “I’ll go first, if you want. My first time was with a girl named Lexy Shaftsman in the ninth grade. We were in the back of my mom’s car in a park. She wasn’t my girlfriend, but we had an arrangement.” He cocked a brow. “Did you experiment with girls before you decided on men?”

Hux shook his head. “No, and it kept me out of others’ beds for quite some time. I didn’t sleep with anyone until my freshman year at university.”

“Not even a blowjob in high school?” Ren asked.

Hux glared, affronted. “No.” Eyeing Ren, he said, “When were you first with a man?”

“Also the ninth grade. I was drunk at a party and I got a handjob in the basement. We were lucky nobody caught us at it.”

Hux pulled a face. “Were you really that desperate?”

“At fifteen?” Ren said. “Hell yes. It got better as I got older, but I kept all of that out when I enlisted. I wasn’t about to get mixed up with anybody in my unit. On leave, I mostly picked up women. They weren’t my favorite four years. I like women, but if I had to choose, it would be men.”

“I understand,” said Hux.

Ren took a drink of his beer, shifting closer so that he was pressed against Hux’s side. “Yeah, I used to play fast and loose with sex, but, uh, with us...I’m okay taking things slow.”

Hux stalled with his own gulp of beer. He wasn’t sure he liked the implication at that point. An hour of kisses—no matter how enjoyable—did not an “us” make. Resting his beer bottle on his thigh he said, “Kylo, it hasn’t changed that all of this is very complicated. I can’t control when I come into this realm and I have a very important case to work on. I really can’t afford an entanglement right now.”

“‘Entanglement,’” Ren said slowly. “You’re saying you don’t really want to do this.”

Hux turned to him. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ could—or _should_ —be.”

Ren sank back into the pillow with a deep sigh. “I should have known better than to think you would change your mind, even after I kissed you breathless. And I _did_.”

“Yes,” Hux admitted. “As I said before, I’m more than willing to spend time with you, but something more serious presents a very considerable challenge.”

Ren looked up at the ceiling. “Fine. We’ll keep it casual. Can you agree to that?”

“All right,” Hux said. The least he could do was give Ren that much, or little, depending on perspective. He was about to take another sip of beer when the bottle fell from his hand. The beer spilled all over the bed. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. Looking down at himself, he could see he was growing translucent, returning to the physical realm.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Ren. “See you around, Doc.”

Hux woke on the sofa in his living room, chilly and damp with sweat. His phone, which was on the side table, was buzzing insistently. Bleary, Hux reached for it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Hux,” said Poe Dameron. “Sorry to call so late.”

“It’s fine,” Hux said. “Is there something wrong?”

“Well, we think we’ve made a break in the case—something to do with the Ren files. We really need you down here again. Can you come tomorrow?”

Hux replied, “Of course. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Poe said. “See you then, okay?”

“Yes. Goodnight.” He ended the call, still a little hazy from sleep, and rubbed his face. It was a shame to cut his break short, but if he was needed, he would go. Stiffly, he got up from the sofa and shuffled his way upstairs. He went straight to his bedroom, turned down the sheets, and crawled under them. He hoped as he drifted off that he wouldn’t return to limbo that night.


	5. Chapter 5

Hux brought the styrofoam cup Phasma had pushed into his hands to his mouth, taking a sip of strong, bitter coffee. The brew in Raleigh PD headquarters was thick like motor oil and burned down the throat acidly, the epitome of a police serial cliché. It was his fourth cup today, and he was starting to feel the jittery effect. Still, he needed the pick-me-up; he and Phasma and Poe had been poring over the court transcripts from Kylo Ren’s trial since Hux had arrived downtown at nine o’clock in the morning. It was now past three.

There had been a break, Poe had said on the telephone last night, and Hux had come into the operations room that morning in a rush, ready to hear something pivotal. However, Phasma had sat him down with his first coffee and told him in carefully chosen words that before they proceeded with the Ren files, Hux had to disclose any interactions he had had with Ren that might have led him to draw false conclusions.

“What do you mean?” he had asked.

“If you talked to this guy,” Phasma had replied, “and he was just yanking your chain and this is a goose chase, there’s going to be hell to pay. We’re about to call in Charlotte PD and make a big deal of this.”

Hux had lied: “I never spoke to him during my research. All of my conclusions came from the evidence alone.”

“Okay,” Phasma had said. “Then I need your eyes on transcripts today. We need to know what came up at the trial in terms of circumstantial evidence. We’ve only got the hard stuff in the files you gave us. We’ve got to find every hole where this current perp could fit into the accusations against Ren.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Hux said.

By now he was through the sixth day of the trial proceedings and the animosity of the prosecutor came leaping out of the pages. Amilyn Holdo was a seasoned assistant district attorney and had pinned Ren at the very beginning. She had a habit of addressing him directly in the courtroom, even when cross-examining witnesses. It was a very aggressive tactic and Hux could imagine how much Ren would have hated it. From what Hux could tell, he didn’t care to be the center of attention, preferring to hunch his shoulders and melt into a crowd. In that, it was unfortunate that he was so large and striking; he didn’t disappear easily.

On the witness stand at this point in the transcripts was Dr. Rose Tico, the young psychologist who had always maintained that Ren wasn’t a violent man. The prosecutor was grilling her mercilessly, but her replies read as professional and composed.

 

**Holdo:** Dr. Tico, you state in your assessment of Benjamin Solo that “the subject presents with an EQ of thirty-four.” Can you tell the court what that means?

 

**Tico:** EQ stands for “empathy quotient,” which was developed by Dr. Simon Baron-Cohen at Cambridge. It measures a person’s ability to understand and process others’ emotions and feel their own emotional response. Data is collected through a questionnaire and EQ is scored out of sixty, with sixty being highest empathy and zero being no empathy at all. Kylo scored thirty-four, which is just eight points below the average for men.

 

**Holdo:** Just to be clear, by “Kylo,” you mean Benjamin Solo, who is sitting here today?

 

**Tico:** Yes. I’m using the name he prefers.

 

**Holdo:** So, if the “perfect” empathy score for this test is sixty, Benjamin Solo has a little less than half of that empathetic capacity?

 

**Tico:** There’s no “perfect” score for empathy, Ms. Holdo. A person with an EQ of sixty is very rare, as is a person with an EQ of zero.

 

**Holdo:** Is it true that someone with a low EQ is more likely to be diagnosed with a kind of narcissistic personality disorder or other psychopathy?

 

**Tico:** Yes, that’s true, but Kylo does not come anywhere near that point. He’s perfectly average for a male of his age group. He clearly feels empathy for others and can experience emotional reactions to theirs. There’s nothing abnormal about his levels of empathy.

 

**Holdo:** Does a killer have to be without empathy?

 

**Tico:** No, but—

 

**Holdo:** So, you’re saying that even someone with an average EQ could still be violent?

 

**Tico:** A lack of empathy doesn’t always lead to violence.

 

**Holdo:** That’s not an answer to the question, Dr. Tico.

 

**Krennic [Ren’s defense attorney]:** Objection, Your Honor. Argumentative.

 

**The Court:** Overruled. Please answer the question directly, Dr. Tico.

 

**Tico:** Yes, even someone with an average EQ could be violent. But Kylo isn’t—

 

**Holdo:** No further questions, Your Honor.

 

Hux had read a great deal about empathy quotient in school and would be using it to assess the men he was interviewing for his book. If they hadn’t already done the questionnaire, he had planned to administer it to them during their meetings. Women usually scored higher—around forty-seven—but a score of thirty-four wasn’t low. Ren was perfectly average, just as Dr. Tico had argued.

She had had more time to discuss Ren’s stability and lack of personality disorder during the defense’s examination, but Holdo had effectively undermined a good deal of the psychology upon which the defense’s arguments were based. The truth was, psychology wasn’t a perfect science and there were always outliers. They had made Ren out to be one and the jury had bought it.

Choking another bit of sludgy coffee down, Hux said, “I need to speak with Dr. Rose Tico about her findings in Ren’s case.”

Poe and Phasma looked up from their own parts of the transcript. Poe said, “Her reports are in the evidence.”

“I know,” said Hux, “but I want to talk to her directly. It will give me a better impression of what she actually thought of him and”—he hesitated—“I’d like her opinion on my findings for the current case.”

“No,” Phasma said sternly. “We’re not bringing someone else in on this case. Talk to her about Ren if you have to, but _do not_ mention that you’re working with this task force.”

Hux nodded, though he wasn’t pleased. “I’d like to step out and call her, then.”

Phasma waved a dismissive hand. “Do what you have to.”

The room across the hall was empty again, and Hux took his phone inside, shutting the door behind him. Dr. Tico’s contact information had been in the files, so he dialed her direct number and listened to the ringing.

“This is Rose,” he heard when she picked up.

“Hello, Dr. Tico. My name is Dr. Armitage Hux and I’d like to speak to you about a former patient of yours: Kylo Ren.”

There was a pause, but then: “I’m not in the habit of disclosing patient information, Dr. Hux. May I ask what this is about?”

Hux quickly explained his research, leaving out all details about the current case.

“I didn’t know he had died,” Dr. Tico said when he was finished. “That’s a terrible shame.”

“Yes,” Hux said. “Especially since you believed he was innocent.”

She asked carefully, “What makes you assume that? I only testified that he didn’t exhibit violent tendencies or personality disorders.”

“I presumed, I suppose,” Hux told her. “And that’s because I am inclined to think that he was wrongly convicted.” He heard a sigh over the line.

“I would agree with that,” said Dr. Tico. “So, what do you want to know about him?”

Hux sat down in one of the plastic chairs around the table and picked up his pencil and legal pad. “Your impressions of him. What you learned in your interviews. I had some interaction with him, but did not get the chance to work up a profile before he was killed. I’ve looked at yours, but maybe you can speak to your thoughts on his innocence.”

“Sure.” Hux heard a creak, as if she was leaning back in her chair. “Honestly, he was pretty stiff in our interviews. I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with me, but he never tried to deceive me—at least not that I noticed. I don’t think he’s a particularly good liar; his face is easy to read.”

Hux had noted that, too, and he appreciated it.

Dr. Tico continued: “I saw him about three times to work up my profile and did the EQ questionnaire. You probably read about that. He told me he had killed people in the Middle East, but he didn’t enjoy it. He did what he was told to do under orders to protect himself and his unit. He didn’t have any signs of post-traumatic stress, which might have led to violence, so I concluded that it would be highly out of character for him to commit murder. And he had no cause to. No vendettas or unhealthy fixations on women or men. He’s not a stalker.”

“No, he’s not,” said Hux. “What did he say about the bar fights he was in?”

“Those were just disagreements under the influence of alcohol,” she said. “Nothing other young men wouldn’t get mixed up in. There’s nothing tell-tale about them.”

Hux scribbled down some notes. “Indeed. Is there anything else you can think of that I should know?”

She replied, “Maybe this is too subjective, but despite his coolness, I actually liked him. He seemed like an honest and good person. I think what happened to him with the trial and how he died is truly tragic. He deserved better.”

“He very much did deserve better,” Hux said slowly. “And hopefully I’m going to prove that he didn’t do this.”

“You want to clear his name? Why?”

He tapped the eraser of his pencil on the legal pad. “Even from our limited interactions, I came to like him, too. He claimed innocence and, frankly, I believe him.” He winced as he realized he had spoken in the present tense. “Believed,” he corrected.

“That’s good of you,” Dr. Tico said. “Maybe it will give the family some solace.”

Hux asked, “Did you meet his family?”

“Briefly. I had the chance to speak to them during the trial. The father is a little rough around the edges, but you can tell Kylo was his son. He had some of the same qualities. His mother has a poised way about her—a kind of class. She didn’t cry when we talked about Kylo, but it clearly affected her. Do you plan to talk to them?”

“No,” said Hux. “At least not until I take this matter to court and present hard evidence that he was wrongly convicted. I’ll contact them only then.”

“Smart,” she said. “They’ve been through a lot already.”

“I can only imagine.” Take some last few notes, he said, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Tico. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. If you need my input when you get this to court, call me. I’d be happy to help out. For Kylo.”

Hux smiled. “I’ll let you know. Goodbye.”

He ended the call and set his phone down on the table. Nothing that she offered was really evidence of Ren’s innocence, but Hux was glad to know that she had thought him innocent. There was vindication in that.

“She was all right, for a shrink.”

Hux started, finding Ren standing beside him in his semi-transparent form. He had his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his hair tied up into the little tail at the back of his head. He looked tired.

“Hey, Doc,” he said. “Sorry to scare you.”

“It’s all right,” said Hux. “How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“Only your half, but I could guess what she was saying. I guess you’re not the only one who thinks I didn’t do it. Could have helped to have her admit that in court.”

Hux inclined his head. “Perhaps, but expert witnesses generally can’t offer their opinion in that way. She did all she could for you.”

Ren scratched at his chin. “Can’t really send her a thank you note from beyond the grave, but I appreciate it.”

Getting to his feet, Hux said, “I’m amazed at how at-home you seem to feel in this current state. You accepted it immediately and just adjusted. It’s very remarkable.”

“Don’t know what else I could do than get used to it,” Ren said with a shrug. “I’d probably be more upset if I had to be alone, but”—he stepped closer—“I’ve got you.”

“That’s true,” Hux said, strangely self-conscious, as Ren often made him with his direct attention.

Ren reached out to touch Hux’s arm, running his hand down it as if Hux could feel him. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, and what we did last night.” He winked. “You’re haunting me.”

Hux flushed. “Kylo, this really isn’t the place.”

“Come on, Doc,” he said, “let me have a little fun, won’t you?” He was grinning, wrinkling the sides of his mouth and offering a view of his ever-so-slightly crooked front teeth.

The warmth of affection spread through Hux, and he would have happily touched him if he could have. “Well, I suppose I can say that I’ve thought of it, too,” he said, “though I have been busy today.” In fact, he had indulged in a quick wank in the shower that morning, Ren’s kisses on his mind.

Ren hummed pleasantly. “What kind of thoughts?”

“I’m not going to tell you my fantasies,” Hux said.

“You fantasized about me?” Ren asked. “I _really_ like the sound of that, Doc. I hope it was about being in my bed again, because that’s what I can’t get out of my head. You looked so good there when I came back in with those beers: just a little rumpled and lips nice and red. I wanted to go for another hour at least.”

Hux wet his lips now, very much liking the notion of returning to Ren’s room in limbo.

“You think you could come over tonight?” Ren said. “I’m all right with making out again, but I could also think of a couple of other things we could do. I’d like to take good care of you.”

“Oh, my,” Hux said, mostly to himself. “That’s...intriguing.”

Ren laughed, head thrown back. “You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know? So formal. You can just say you’d like me to go down on you.”

Hux’s eyes went wide. “Is that what you were thinking?” he asked stiltedly.

“Mmhm. I bet you taste great.”

“Kylo, good Lord,” Hux mumbled, looking down at his feet. “Do you have no shame?”

Ren crouched down until Hux could see his face again. “Not really, Doc. Not when it comes to this.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And I’ve got to admit, I love watching you blush.”

Hux shook his head, resigned. “I’m not sure I know what do with you.”

“Then let me do things with _you_ , instead,” Ren said. He stood to his full height again and laid a hand on Hux’s cheek. “I’ll leave you for now, but come around tonight, if you can. I’d say I’ll be good, but I won’t. See you later, Doc.” He winked out of the room, leaving Hux alone with the beginnings of an erection and an elevated pulse.

He massaged his temples. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. He gathered up his paper and pencil and returned to the operations room. Phasma was out, but Poe was still seated at the table with transcripts fanned out around him.

“Did you get a hold of her?” he asked.

“I did,” Hux replied. He offered a play-by-play of the conversation, reading from his notes. “So, she might be of help later on,” he concluded.

Poe nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Glad it was a good conversation.” He tipped his head toward the transcripts. “More exciting reading?”

“Afraid so,” said Hux. He pulled up the chair next to Poe and sat. The place he had left off was still marked, so he picked up there again.

“Hux,” Poe said after a moment. “I was hoping maybe I could get you to come out with me tonight. I heard there’s a great place for steak around the corner, and, well, I made a reservation for six o’clock.”

Hux turned to him, surprised. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

“Dinner,” said Poe. “Tonight. With me. I know it was pretty presumptuous of me to make a reservation, but I decided to roll the dice. Are you interested?”

“I, well,” Hux began, stumbling over the words. He couldn’t help but think of Ren’s offer of fellatio and their tentative agreement to spend more time together. Going out with Poe was a rather insensitive move, but Hux hadn’t promised Ren that their arrangement was exclusive. And it was just dinner. That seemed like a poor excuse, but he said, more confidently, “Well, I suppose so.”

Poe beamed. “Great! We’ll leave around five-thirty.” He set his hand with intention next to Hux’s. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

Hux gave him a small smile. “Yes. Me, too.”

 

* * *

 

By the appointed time, Hux was exhausted and more tempted to go back to the hotel and have a long shower before turning in early, but he had agreed to go. Phasma packed up her transcripts and stretched her arms up over her head, shoulder joints popping loudly enough for Hux to hear.

“Ready to head over?” she asked.

“We’re actually going to grab some dinner,” Poe replied. “Steak and wine.”

Phasma raised a white-blond eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? Well, I won’t keep you.” She shot Hux a look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He glared, and she laughed. “See you two later.”

When she had gone, Poe said, “She’s got the wrong idea. I promise nothing untoward will happen. Just dinner and maybe a dance.”

“A dance?” Hux said. He hadn’t danced in many years and had never been particularly good at it—at least the partner dances. He much preferred the clubs, or had when he was at university.

“Only if you want to,” said Poe. He offered his arm in a kind of half-mocking gallantry. “Shall we?”

Hux didn’t take it, but he agreed.

They took Poe’s requisitioned sedan, running the GPS to get them to the restaurant and appropriate parking lot. It was a new place Hux hadn’t been to, called Pino, and from the look of it, it was quite chic. Poe held to door for him as they entered. Inside, the lights were low and quiet jazz was playing over cleverly concealed speakers.

“Good evening,” said a middle-aged hostess, her auburn hair in perfectly crafted loose curls. “Do you have a reservation with us?”

“We do,” Poe said. “Under Dameron.”

She typed something into her computer and then smiled. “Of course. If you’ll come with me.” Taking two faux leather-bound menus, she led them to a table for two not far from a hardwood dance floor. A small stage was set up at the opposite side.

“The band comes on at seven,” the hostess said. “We have a specialty cocktails menu along with wines and beers here on the table. Your server will be with you shortly.”

Poe pulled out Hux’s chair for him and got him settled before taking his own. He glanced around the room at the few other diners, some with food already and others sipping drinks and waiting. “Nice place,” he said.

“It is,” said Hux, picking up his menu. There was a special on surf-and-turf, but that would be far too much for him. He looked instead at the filets and side dishes.

“What do you drink?” Poe asked. He had the wine list in hand. “Pinot noir? Malbec?”

“The malbec is bold enough to go with steak, I think,” Hux replied. “It’s a particular favorite of mine, as well.”

Poe folded up the menu and set it aside. “You order, then. You seem to know what you want.”

Hux kept his eyes on his menu, thinking just the opposite. Well, he knew what kind of wine he preferred, but when it came to the two men who had suddenly entered his life, he was floundering. This setting was very suited to Poe’s tastes and his attitude. He was handsome in his suit and well-matched tie. Hux couldn’t see Ren in a place like this, though he would look absolutely fantastic in a suit, with his long hair combed neatly and curling around his ears. No, if he had steak, it would likely be something he made on Hux’s grill on the back porch. That didn’t preclude candles and romance, but it was more casual in a way that fit him better than this almost overdone ambiance.

Their server arrived a few minutes later, bringing them freshly baked bread with rosemary olive oil. Hux placed their wine order while Poe took a piece of the bread—it steamed it was so hot—and tore off a chunk to dip in the oil.

“There are all kinds of things I want to ask you,” he said to Hux after he had chewed and swallowed. “And none of them case-related. You okay with leaving work at the station and getting a little more personal here?”

“All right,” Hux said. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, I can always start small. What made you want to write a book about serial murderers?”

That was easy enough to answer. “I wanted to explore the criminal mind from an intimate perspective. And I’ve always been interested in case studies. I thought it would appeal to a wider audience if I made it approachable for lay readers. And interviews with murderers are compelling.”

“That’s true enough,” said Poe. “Looking to be a bestseller, huh?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Hux replied. “It would certainly open up some more doors for me in terms of my career.”

Poe chewed another piece of bread thoughtfully. “How did you choose your subjects?”

“I wanted to stay in one prison community,” Hux said, “and Alderaan had a number of famous— _infamous_ —killers in residence. I chose the cases that seemed not only exciting for the reader but also compelling for me as a scientist.”

“Sounds fascinating. Why exactly did you pick Kylo Ren?”

Hux faltered, nearly dropping his bread. That last thing he needed right now, on what amounted to a date with Poe, was a reminder of Ren. “Ah, well...his case was very well-known and the trial had been sensational. The controversial nature of his conviction was also of interest. I”—he knew what he wanted to say, but hated to voice it aloud—“was captivated by him.”

Their wine arrived before Poe could reply, and the server poured a taste for Hux. When he signaled his approval, she filled their glasses. It was an excellent, full-bodied red. They placed their food orders and the server took their menus away.

“What made you suspect Ren was innocent?” Poe continued, much to Hux’s dismay.

“Just looking at the evidence in his files,” Hux managed to say—a blatant untruth. “Something was off about the whole thing. And after I found about our current case, well...the rest you know.”

Poe sipped his wine. “I do. If you’re right, it’s a shame that he isn’t around to have his name cleared.”

Hux swallowed heavily. “Yes,” he said before taking a deep drink of wine.

The conversation turned from there to other, more innocuous things. Poe told some stories of camping in the mountains as a child and the trouble be had gotten up to. He, like Hux, was an only child and acknowledged that he had been perfectly spoiled by doting parents.

“What about you?” he asked.

“I wasn’t doted upon by my father,” Hux replied, “but I was well taken care of. I had all the things I needed to succeed in school and go to a good university.”

Poe smiled. “I bet he’s proud of you.”

Hux shrugged one shoulder. “He’d never say it outright, but I hope so. Do you see your family often?”

“At Christmas,” said Poe. “Domestic flights across the country aren’t cheap and I didn’t go into the FBI for the money.”

Hux chuckled. “That I can understand. But if you enjoy your work, that’s all that matters.”

“Sure do.”

When their steaks arrived, they dug into them, Hux realizing that they had barely had anything for lunch. There was a baked potato on the side of his steak, with mixed grilled vegetables. Everything about it was delightful. However, as he was working on his filet, he nearly choked at seeing a familiar face on the other side of the dance floor. Ren was standing beside the stage, where a band was now playing, and, for once, he looked the part of the criminal: murderous.

“You okay?” Poe asked, pausing with his fork halfway up to his mouth.

Hux nodded quickly and picked up his glass of water. He cast a glance back across the dance floor to see if he had been imagining things. No, there was Ren, glowering at him.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Hux said, dabbing his napkin over his mouth. Before Poe had even agreed, he was already up and heading toward the men’s room. When he looked back at the stage, Ren was gone.

Thankfully, there was no one in the restroom when he walked in, but as soon as the door closed, there was Ren.

“Going on a date with Dameron, huh?” Ren snapped, stalking up to him. “Very romantic, Doc.”

Hux put up his hands. “Kylo, it’s not what you think.”

Ren scoffed. “Oh, really? Tell me what it is, then.”

“Just dinner. That’s all.”

“That’s _all_ ,” Kylo said. “One minute you’re in my bed with your tongue down my throat and the next you’re off with him. What am I supposed to think?”

Hux, annoyance rising, said, “I don’t know! We’re not together, Kylo. There’s a rather significant barrier preventing that.”

“Oh, so you’re after Dameron because he’s breathing,” Ren said, scowling.

“Not _just_ that,” Hux said. He regretted it right away because Ren flinched outright. “Dammit, that’s not what I meant to say. I mean, Poe is good company and I like spending time with him—”

“Just like you’re ‘spending time’ with me?” Ren demanded. “Honestly, Doc, it didn’t peg you for the kind to two-time a man.” Hux fought for something to say, but before he could, Ren continued: “But measuring me up against him—college, FBI Academy, nice suits—I guess it makes sense who you’d pick.”

“This isn’t a competition,” Hux said.

Ren barked a laugh. “Of course it is. Did I not make it clear enough that I want you to be with me and _only_ me? I want to _win_ , Doc.”

The heat of shame filled Hux’s face, supplanting temper. This had been a bad idea, poor treatment of Ren when he had been nothing but earnest with what he wanted from their unusual arrangement.

Ren fell back to lean against one of the sinks, hanging his head. “I don’t even know why I’m trying at this point.”

“He isn’t better than you,” Hux said firmly. “Just because he has a badge and a degree doesn’t make him something more. I wouldn’t agree to see him on those grounds alone.”

Ren sighed, rubbing a broad hand over his face. “I’m at a loss here, Doc. I know we’re not together, but it isn’t easy to watch you with some other guy.”

Hux wanted to tell him not to watch, then, but it was a barb he shouldn’t throw. “I’m not sure what to say, Kylo. I’ve never in my life had two people vying for me at once. I’m afraid I don’t know how to behave.” He took in Ren’s softer expression, watching him listen. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Ren said. “Well, at least not much. It’s like I said, I just want you to be with me, but I can’t stop you from playing the field, either.”

Hux wrinkled his nose at the distasteful metaphor, but then said, “Give me some time to get my head on straight, all right? No more dinners with Poe and no more...what we did last night until I make up my mind. Can we agree on that?”

“Okay,” said Ren. He sucked his lower lip under his teeth. “Can I ask for one thing, though?”

“If it’s reasonable, yes,” Hux said.

“I’d like to dance with you.”

Hux’s brows drew together. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that when nobody can see you and I can’t touch you?”

Ren rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you could dance with Dameron and I can just kind of...cut in.”

“You’re serious?” Hux asked. “What if he wants to talk to me?”

“Tell him you just want to listen to the music,” said Ren. “You can come up with something, I’m sure.”

“This is barely possible,” Hux grumbled. “But if it’s your one condition, then I’ll find a way.”

Ren took a step closer to him and made to brush his hand. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be waiting.”

He winked away and Hux was left once again alone in the restroom. He couldn’t immediately leave, so he stopped to splash some water on his face. Kylo’s idea was ludicrous, but Hux found it difficult to deny him; that was going to be a problem down the road, he was sure of it. Finally, when he was more put together, he returned to the table. Poe was waiting patiently, not fiddling with his phone.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Hux. “Just needed to freshen up.” He flashed a smile. “Shall we finish eating and then”—he gestured to the dance floor—“have a dance?”

Poe’s excitement was plain as day. “Absolutely.”

Hux’s steak had cooled significantly, and the rest wasn’t as appetizing. Still, he cut it into bite-sized pieces and ate it. The potato and half-eaten vegetables he left. However, he finished the wine without trouble.

“Did you ever take dance lessons?” Poe said as he polished off the last of the food on his plate. “I had to learn a couple of things for my aunt’s wedding. It was a formal wedding and everyone was expected to waltz.”

“They taught us in my public school,” Hux replied. “That’s a private school in your parlance. It was a boys’ school, though, and so we had to dance with each other. I learned to both lead and to follow.”

He had vivid recollections of awkwardly stepping on his partners’ toes as they fumbled across the floor together, hands chilly but damp with sweat. It was an uncomfortable gaggle of twelve- and thirteen-year-olds trying to act offended that they had to partner each other. Hux knew it was all pretense. He had danced with a boy named Sebastian, whom he had snogged several times before. Dancing was hardly an intimacy in comparison.

“Light on your feet, then?” said Poe, the flirtatious affect back once again. It was remarkable how he could turn it off and on at will, going from focused and earnestly interested in what Hux was saying to charming with the intention to seduce. “Just dinner” Hux had said to Ren, but he knew Poe was dead set on more. Were he the only one in the equation, Hux might have readily accepted, but there was Ren to consider—Ren who had already given him more.

“I can hold my own,” Hux said. “Shall I follow your lead?”

“I can’t follow, so I wouldn’t mind.”

Hux pushed his chair back and stood. “Then shall we?”

As they went to the dance floor, the three other couples made space for them. An older man and woman seemed quite scandalized to see two men together, but a young couple—the girl with colorful tattoos up and down her arms where her blouse bared them and the man with his long hair in a flattering “man-bun”—smiled at them. Poe opened his arms and Hux stepped into them, clasping his right hand and setting his left on Poe’s shoulder. Poe counted under his breath, “Two, three, four” and then they were off.

They had to step quickly to keep up with the beat, and both of them—rusty as they were—had to concentrate rather than talk for the duration of the first song. Fortunately, it slowed afterward and they fell into a steadier, easier step.

“You’re better at this than me,” Poe said with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m a pretty lousy partner.”

“It’s just fine,” said Hux. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ren’s approaching. He passed by the young couple, and the girl shivered as if she could feel him like a cold breeze. Poe was about to say something further, but Hux caught him with: “I like this song. Do you mind if we just listen for a bit?”

Poe’s look was indulgent. “Sure,” he said.

He moved to come in closer, but Hux maintained his frame, keeping him at bay. If he was offended, he didn’t show it, and stayed in his place.

Hux wasn’t sure what to expect from Ren, but he watched in silence as he slid in front of Poe, into the space Hux had preserved. While Poe was several inches shorter than Hux, Hux and Ren were nearly of a height. It was somewhat unnerving to see Ren’s face floating above the crown of Poe’s head, which was still visible _through_ Ren.

“Hey, Doc,” Ren said softly. Hux couldn’t speak to him and Ren knew it, but that didn’t deter him. “You look good out here. Even if you’re with _him_.”

Hux gave him a warning look.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I’ll drop it for now. But I’m serious. You’ve got these nice lines when you move. Long arms and legs. I’d like them wrapped around me.”

Hux tried not to let his mind run away with the image, but he couldn’t stop the brief flash of what it might be like to hitch his legs up over Ren’s back and his put his arms around his neck to pull him closer while he thrust into him. His cheeks warmed and when he came back to himself, Ren was grinning knowingly at him.

“You like that idea,” Ren said. “I sure as hell do, too.” He leaned in, speaking into Hux’s ear. “I could make you feel really good, right down to your toes. Maybe I haven’t had any practice for a while—you know, _jail_ —but it’s like riding a bike. Except I’ll ride _you_.”

Hux wanted at once to tell him to shut up and to keep talking. This was hardly the kind of conversation they needed to have right now, and yet Hux was keen on hearing more. Holding Kylo’s gaze steadily, he hoped that would be clear.

“Is that how you like it, Doc?” Ren asked. “Getting someone on top of you?”

Hux tipped his head to the right, acknowledging, but then deliberately wet his lips, lingering to draw Ren’s attention.

Ren took the bait, giving an approving groan. “Okay, what about under you? I mean, I can do both. And I’d love to see you bouncing on my—” Hux cleared his throat, and Ren laughed. “Really? You draw the line at dirty talk?” He grinned with feral delight. “Too bad I don’t, and you can’t say a word to stop me.”

Hux tried his best to give him a pleading glance, but Ren completely disregarded him, picking up right where he left off: “Bouncing on my cock, Doc. Ha! A rhyme.” He seemed tremendously pleased with himself. “Anyway, I can take anything you give me, and I give it back in kind, as long as that’s what you want. I’ve been thinking way too much about you filling me up, stuffing me full. You might have to take some time with me, though. I’ve got to be pretty tight after years without so much as a finger inside.”

Such talk had never done much for Hux before, but now, in this most inappropriate place, he felt his cock twitching with interest. He honestly hadn’t expected Ren to be quite so willing to be taken; he seemed much more the dominant partner. But if he went both ways—well, Hux could get behind that. Figuratively speaking.

“You’ve got such pretty fingers,” Ren continued. “I could suck on them just to show you what I can do with my mouth. You ever been rimmed before?”

Hux barely contained the shocked sound he wanted to make.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” said Ren. “We’re going to have to change that, then. I’ll get you in the shower and get you all cleaned up—inside and out—and then I’ll do my level best to make you lose control.” He shook his head slightly to move his hair back from his face. It was a strangely elegant motion that Hux could watch again and again.

“Are you loud in bed?” Ren asked. “I love to think you’ll make all kinds of sounds when I take care of you: moans, whines, gasps. I want to hear all of it.”

Hux was now half-hard in his trousers and thankful that Poe wasn’t close enough to feel it. It would give him the altogether wrong idea.

“I have to admit, I like this,” Ren said. “I can just tease you to my heart’s content and nobody else will be the wiser. Dameron doesn’t even know he doesn’t have you right now. _I_ have you.”

From what Hux could see, Poe was blithely watching Hux, who wasn’t looking at him at all. No, his focus was wholly on Ren. Damn it all, but Ren was right. In this moment, Hux was his.

“Come to my place tonight,” Ren told him. “Come be with me.”

Hux gave him a withering look. _I promised nothing else until I decide._

Ren’s face fell, his provocative tone fading away. “Yeah, okay. I get it. You need more time.” He stepped away, his spectral form passing through Poe and into Hux’s periphery. “Take your time, then, Doc, but remember this. Remember what it felt like to be with me.” As the last strains of the song faded, so did he.

“That was nice,” Poe said, his voice startlingly different than Ren’s.

“Yes,” Hux managed to say despite the tightness in his throat and, unfortunately, his trousers. He released Poe and moved back a pace. “Thank you for the dances.”

Poe straightened the tie that was already in perfect order. “Glad to do it. You in the mood for dessert?”

Hux shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m knackered. Would you mind if we just returned to the hotel?”

“Not at all.” Poe led the way back to their table. Their dishes had been cleared and a dessert menu was standing at the center of the table, illuminated just slightly by the tealight candle in a red glass holder. Poe produced his wallet and, with a wink and a “My treat tonight,” went to settle the bill.

Hux stood by to wait for him, watching the other dancers. The young couple was very good, now quickstepping around the floor with genuine smiles, wrapped up in each other. Hux stopped a passing server and said, “Will you send a bottle of champagne to their table, from an anonymous benefactor?”

The server looked bewildered, but nodded, accepting Hux’s credit card to charge the wine to it. Hux followed him to the front of the restaurant, where Poe was just signing their receipt. The server Hux had stopped was quick to return his card, which he also signed for.

“What was that?” Poe asked as they left the building.

“A gift,” Hux replied. When he didn’t elaborate, Poe’s brows knit, but he didn’t press.

They parted in the lobby of the hotel, as Hux’s room was on the first floor and Poe’s the third. Hux thanked him for a nice evening and swiped his keycard to get inside. The sheets of the bed were turned down like petals, beckoning. But Hux first went to take a shower and brush his teeth. He worked out his frustration with Ren in the form of a fast, desperate wank before stumbling, exhausted, out of the bathroom and into bed. As tempting as it was to join Ren in the spirit realm tonight, Hux hoped he would stay on his plane until morning.

 

* * *

 

The task force was sharing boxes of Chinese takeout the evening next when Hux picked up the file on Norbert Snoke, including his testimony during Ren’s trial in 2015. He had been a character witness, discussing his acquaintance with Ren as a regular at First Order Bar and Grill and explaining the few fights Ren had gotten into over the years he had been frequenting the bar. His statements hadn’t been, by any means, the grain of rice that tipped the scales, but his allusions that Ren was capable of violence certainly bolstered the prosecution’s case. He seemed a perfectly average small business owner from the transcripts, but Detective Unamo had said that he put off a bad vibe—that there was something _off_ about him.

There was no record of him ever being interviewed in depth, including asking about his alibis for the nights Ren had allegedly murdered the girls. Unamo had told him that they had never had any reason to suspect him; it was only her intuition leading her to believe there was something more to it. Hux wondered if he might not ask Ren about him before pursuing any leads or interviewing him himself.

Pushing his leftover sweet and sour chicken away, Hux said, “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

The others—just as weary-eyed as he was from another long day—waved him off with a few mumbles of assent. Detective Finn didn’t even look up from his beef with broccoli, some of which he had had to mop up from the page he had been reading. Hux left them and thought for a moment about going to the restroom, but it was likely he could have company there. Instead, he chose the small conference room across the hall, though he flicked on only half of the lights, hoping he would go unnoticed.

He leaned slightly against the table and, glancing up as if that’s where limbo was, he said, “Kylo, are you there?” At first there was no reply, and Hux assumed he hadn’t been heard. Still, he repeated, “Kylo? I need to speak with you, if you’re available.”

“I’m always available for you, Doc.” Ren had appeared a few paces away, in a ratty pair of track pants and a white undershirt that was at least a size too small. His feet were bare.

Hux managed not to smile, but barely. “Thank you. I didn’t take you away from anything important?”

“No,” Ren said. “I was just reading and drinking beer.” He glanced around the room. “Isn’t it a little late for you to be working? Almost nine on the earthly plane, right?” He was wry and teasing, but there was a genuine question in it, too.

“We’re pushing through,” said Hux, “before there’s another murder.” He admitted: “It’s hard work, but it’s necessary.”

Ren cracked the knuckles of both of his big hands, the spectral joints popping. “It’s good of you to keep at it with Phasma and company.” Hux assumed he deliberately omitted Poe’s name. “But don’t work yourself to death, okay?”

Hux nodded once. “I promise I won’t.”

“So,” Ren said, “what did you need me for?”

Hux eased himself up onto the table, letting his legs hang over the side and childishly knocking his brogues together. “I’d like to know about Norbert Snoke.”

Ren’s brow wrinkled as he gave Hux an inquiring look. “The Snoke who runs First Order in Charlotte?”

“The very same,” Hux said. He gave Ren a quick overview of his suspicions about the man—what Detective Unamo had said.

“Unamo,” Ren grumbled. “She was a real hard-ass, but good at her job, I guess.” He scratched his chin, shifting his weight back into his heels and wriggling his long toes on the linoleum. “Snoke was a character, that’s for sure. He wasn’t the listen-to-your-woes bartender type that he hired to mix drinks, but he would talk to people and get to know them. He was clean-cut, too: always in a tie, even when he had to pinch hit and pour a few beers. Took the running of the bar pretty seriously, and he made good money from it.”

“He knew you fairly well,” said Hux.

“Yeah. I had been coming there for as long as I had lived downtown. Even if we didn’t talk every night, I had the chance to see to him more than once. He wasn’t very forthcoming with his own story, but it was tit-for-tat when I told him mine. He seemed like a decent guy, if a little weird.”

Hux rubbed his palms down his thighs. “I admit, I had been hoping you might have had the same impression of him that Unamo had. It might have given me cause to interview him.”

“You still can,” Ren said. “If you really think you’ve got something to go on.” He stepped up beside Hux and laid a hand on his shoulder, even if Hux couldn’t feel it. “Trust your gut, right?”

“I don’t know, Kylo,” Hux said. “I don’t want to waste time on a hunch that won’t go anywhere—not when my time could be better spent.

“Go off the clock, then. You don’t have to tell anyone about it; just go. See if it pays off. He’s probably around the new location here tonight.”

Hux turned his eyes up to Ren’s face; there was trusting encouragement in it. “All right,” he said. “I’ll make my excuses to the task force and go in a few minutes. Will you listen in on the conversation and tell me what you think?”

“Sure,” Kylo said. “Anything you need, Doc.”

“Thank you,” said Hux. He tipped his head to the side, as if to brush his cheek against Ren’s hand.

Ren watched him do it with a kind of awe. “Hux,” he started, but the opening of the door to the little conference room interrupted him.

Hux craned his neck to see Phasma standing at the threshold. “He’s done it again,” she ground out. “There’s another scene.”

Dismay spread through Hux’s breast in slick, cold tendrils. Once again they had failed, and the murderer had free rein to take more lives. The disappointment rose with his gorge, full stomach heaving. And his interview with Snoke would have to wait.

“Where?” he asked.

“Off-campus student housing,” she replied. “We need to get going.”

Hux jumped down from the table, passing through Ren to go to the door.

“I’ll meet you there,” Ren said from behind him.

Hux couldn’t reply, but he assumed Ren knew he didn’t mind. He sat in melancholy silence in the back seat of the sedan Phasma drove from Six Forks to the other side of NC State’s campus. Police cars and the medical examiner’s van were already parked outside a squat brick house, its lawn cordoned off with yellow tape.

“She’s inside,” said a uniformed officer when they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Master bedroom.”

“Did you find her?” Poe, who had come with them, asked.

The officer shook his head. “Lewis did.” He pointed, and Poe thanked him and went to speak to the first man on the scene.

Hux followed Phasma under the tape and into the house, putting on booties over his shoes to keep from contaminating the scene. The girl was laid out neat and clean on her bed in a bra and panties, her skin gone pale with blood loss. Dr. Mitaka was taking her liver temperature with his long thermometer, which Hux thought looked all too much like the one he used in his kitchen when he baked pork loin. He regretted, now, having eaten so much fried rice at the station.

“What have we got, Mitaka?” Phasma said, thumbs hitched in her gun belt.

“Caucasian female, twenty years old, liver temperature of 90.6 degrees.” He looked up sorrowfully. “I’d say she’s been dead less than four hours.”

“Jesus,” said Phasma. “You mean he killed her in broad daylight? It’s only nine o’clock right now and the sun just went down. How in the hell did he manage that?”

Mitaka said, “That’s your job, Special Agent. But I know we just missed him.”

“Dammit,” Phasma spat. “This bastard is getting even bolder.” She rounded on Hux. “What do you make of the change in pattern?”

Hux approached the body, looking over the places where the knife had penetrated her skin. “It was just the right opportunity,” he said. “He stalked her long enough to find out she had this time alone in the house. And he kills so quietly, nobody would have heard.”

“Maybe the neighbors saw someone come in and go out again,” she said. “I’ll send Finn and Rey to knock on some doors and see what they can find out.” She ducked out of the bedroom, leaving Hux with Dr. Mitaka and the girl’s body.

“Do we have a name?” Hux asked slowly.

“Not yet,” Mitaka said, “but I’ll go find out.”

Hux cast a glance toward the bathroom, where the yellow fluorescent lights were spilling out around the cracks in the door frame. If he was right—and he usually was—the girl’s spirit would be waiting for him there.

“I’d like a moment,” he said Mitaka. “Is that all right?”

“Be my guest. I’m done here anyway. We’ll come get the body after the CSIs take some pictures.” With that, he left.

Inside, the bathroom was small and reeked of strong bleach. The shower curtain was drawn, but Hux knew he wasn’t alone by the objections of his stomach. He willed his dinner to stay down as he closed the door behind him and said, quietly, “Hello.”

A meek “Hello?” was what he got in reply.

He approached the curtain, reaching out to pull it back. “My name is Dr. Hux. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me your name?”

“Kara,” the girl replied. She had a light Southern accent.

“May I pull back the curtain, Kara?” Hux asked.

“Okay.”

She was seated in the bathtub, fully clothed and with her hair done in pigtail braids, arms wrapped around her knobby knees. She had almond-shaped blue eyes and fastidiously groomed arched eyebrows. Her eyelashes were dark with mascara and the lids above them dusted with gold shadow. Her lipstick was ever-so-slightly smeared.

“So, you’re a doctor?” she said after a moment of them just sizing each other up.

“Yes,” Hux replied. “But I’m here for another reason. I’d like to know what happened before you found yourself here in the bathroom.”

She pursed her lips, considering. “Well, I was doing my usual workout video in the living room when I saw something—some _one_ —in the reflection in the TV. My roommate Alanna isn’t here this week, but her boyfriend has a key to the place, so I figured it had to be him.” She swallowed, the cords in her slender neck standing out. “It wasn’t.”

“Was it a man in a mask?” Hux asked.

“No,” she said. “He was wearing a baseball cap, but not a mask.”

Hux’s heart jumped with excitement. “Can you describe him?”

“I only had a minute before he grabbed me, but he was white, probably five ten or something—I’m bad at judging heights. Couldn’t see his hair color under the cap, but he was wearing a button-down shirt—Robin’s egg blue, I think—and black leather gloves. And”—her eyebrows came together—“I think he had some kind of facial scars. I didn’t see him well, but there was something about his face that looked craggy, you know?”

That was far more than they had had to go on before, and Hux was pleased that the man at least fit his profile so far. The lack of a mask suggested that he was indeed less afraid of being discovered at this point. The scars were an important clue as well.

“That’s very good, Kara,” Hux said. “Thank you. Do you remember anything else?”

She stared at her knees, drawing them closer to her chest. “Not really. I think he had an arm around my neck. Then...nothing.” A glance at Hux. “Do you know what happened?”

“Yes,” Hux told her. He hated this part.

“Hey, Doc,” said Ren, having appeared quite suddenly beside him. “Hi, Kara.”

She took a moment to appraise him. Hux saw that he had changed his clothes: a pair of black trousers and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“My name’s Kylo,” he continued. “Like Dr. Hux, I’m here to help. You’ve got a little bit of a transition coming up, and I’m gonna walk you through it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well,” Kylo replied, coming to sit on the side of the bathtub, “you and me are in a different situation now.” He held up his transparent hands. “You see, we’ve moved on. We’re dead, kiddo.”

Kara lifted her own hands, turning them back and forth. “Holy shit,” she murmured. A moment later, the first of the tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” said Kylo, “don’t cry. It’s okay here, and where you’re headed next is just fine, too.”

She sniffled. “Really?”

Kylo tugged one of her pigtails, smiling. “Absolutely. The doc’s going to leave us for now and I’ll make sure you get where you’re going.” To Hux: “See you in a while.”

Hux hoped his expression conveyed his gratitude as he turned and left the bathroom. A few CSIs were milling around the bedroom, talking amongst themselves and taking photographs and collecting evidence.

“It’s already a circus out there,” said one. “I figured we might have a few more hours before those vultures descended on us, but this case is too high-profile now.”

Hux paused to ask her, “You mean the press?”

“Yep,” she replied, adjusting the large camera around her neck. She eyed him. “They’re going to want to talk to you for sure.”

“Why me?” said Hux.

She laughed. “Because you’re the profiler. News got out a week ago, Doctor. Didn’t you hear?”

Hux tensed with concern. He didn’t want to make a big fuss over his participation in the task force, but he supposed he might have expected this. Nothing stayed secret in perpetuity. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he made his way out of the bedroom and back into the hall.

As promised, there were local news vans, with their spiral antennae broadcasting live coverage, parked all around the street. Reporters in sharp suits were pressing against the police tape, holding out microphones in an attempt to get comments from the statue-like, unspeaking officers keeping them at bay.

Hux saw Phasma glaring from a distance, Poe at her side. Hux made his way to them, his guts still roiling despite leaving Kara and Ren behind.

“How did this happen?” he asked Poe when he stopped beside him.

“Somebody leaked the location of this scene,” Poe said curtly. “Somebody in the department craving attention, probably. This was the last thing we needed.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “We should get you out of here, Hux, before they get their grubby hands on you.”

“Good idea,” Phasma said. “You go back to the hotel with him, Dameron. He’s done his part here.”

Hux bristled at being so callously dismissed, but he stifled the feeling, knowing she was right. “Very well,” he said.

Poe set a hand at the small of his back and guided him toward where they had parked their sedan: unfortunately right behind the gaggle of reporters. As they approached, Hux heard the first calls of his name.

“Dr. Hux! Dr. Hux! You’re working on the profile of this killer. Tell us what you’ve found. Is this man ever going to stop?”

“Armitage! Give us a statement about this murder. How does it fit into your profile?”

Poe pushed past them, taking Hux with him. “Don’t say anything,” he said. “They don’t have any business yelling at you.” Louder, to the reporters: “No comment! We have no comments at this time.”

Uncomfortably exposed, Hux managed to shoulder his way through the throng and get to the sedan. He had never been so relieved to get into a passenger seat and shut the door firmly behind him. “Jesus,” he sighed.

“Sorry you had to deal with that,” Poe said, turning the engine over. “We’ll try to keep you out of the mess next time.”

The wave of reporters receded as Poe eased the car forward, but Hux caught sight of a man in a Carolina Panthers baseball cap standing a few paces from one of the vans. He held himself upright, though his face was hidden by the brim of the cap. What stuck out to Hux, though, was the neatness of his navy button-down shirt and patterned tie. He clearly wasn’t a part of a news crew, and he was keeping away from most of the civilian onlookers. He watched as the sedan pulled away. As he did, he lifted his chin just enough for Hux to catch sight of the distinct burn scarring around his mouth. A chill went down his spine, but the man was already gone, lost even in the rear-view mirror.

Poe parked the car at the entrance to the hotel ten minutes later, hopping out to open Hux’s door for him. He said to the porter at the door: “I’ll be right back, Steve.”

“Sure thing, Agent Dameron.”

Poe’s hand went once again to Hux’s back as they went through the lobby toward the first-floor wing where Hux’s room was. Hux fumbled some with his wallet to get his keycard out, but managed by the time they arrived at the door.

“You going to be okay, Hux?” Poe asked. He peered into the room just beyond where Hux stood. “I could come in for a while. Just talk some. Keep you company.”

Hux would have very much liked someone to sit with him after the crush of the reporters, but he recognized what Poe was about right away. They wouldn’t just be sitting, he expected.

“No,” Hux said, “but I appreciate the offer. Perhaps another time.”

Poe grinned. “I’ll hold you that, you know.”

Hux nodded jerkily, backing into his room. “Yes, of course. Goodnight, Poe.”

“Goodnight, Hux.”

When the door was closed, Hux fell back against it, immensely relieved.

“I can _not_ believe the nerve of that guy,” said Ren. He was sitting in one of the plush chairs by the window, scowling. “You were just in a room with a dead body and he’s here trying to get into your pants. That’s low.”

Hux had to agree. “I turned him away,” he said. “I have no intentions of letting anyone near my trousers tonight.”

Ren got to his feet and approached him. “Good. You need to rest. You look exhausted.”

“I am,” Hux admitted. “Those reporters were too much. I just want to sleep.”

“Then let’s get your teeth brushed and get you into bed,” Ren said. He gestured as if to push Hux into the bathroom, and Hux went, turning on the light and blinking against the brightness. Thankfully, there was no smell of bleach or other cleaning solution to remind him of Kara’s death.

“You got the girl to the other side?” he asked as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush.

“Yeah,” Ren replied. He was in the room with Hux, and it would have been crowded had he been corporeal, but Hux found that he didn’t mind. “She’s safely...wherever we go. The poor kid.”

Hux said nothing, his toothbrush already in his mouth. When he spat and rinsed, he watched Ren in the mirror. “Will you read to me tonight?”

Ren blinked, his lips just curling into a smile. “Of course, Doc. But I shouldn’t keep you up.”

“I’ll be asleep soon,” Hux said, “but I don’t want to be alone just now.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you change and I’ll go wait in bed?”

Despite himself, Hux very much liked that phrasing, as though it was the bed they regularly shared. “All right,” he said.

In his pajamas and with his trousers and shirt folded, he turned back the covers and slipped under them. Ren was sitting propped up against the pillows he put no impression upon. Hux picked up his book from the bedside table and set it on his lap. He knew it would snap closed the moment he fell asleep, but for now, he wanted to hear Ren’s low voice until he did.

“Chapter Four,” Ren began, and Hux closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Hux and the task force were consumed for the next three days with the new evidence from Kara’s murder, spending hours upon hours combing through reports and tying leads together late into the nights. Hux spent precious little time in his hotel room, and even when he did, he didn’t remember very much of it, save for the cadence of Ren’s voice as he read to him before he slept. Somehow, they had tacitly agreed that he would read every night; Ren just appeared, reclining in the bed, after Hux had put on his pajamas. Hux opened the book without a word.

Otherwise, they saw very little of each other. Hux had not been to the spirit realm and Ren generally didn’t bother him when he was working. Sometimes Hux thought he saw him out of the corner of his eye, but if he was there, he didn’t want to make himself known.

Poe had continued to be attentive to Hux, but hadn’t suggested they go out together; both of them were dead tired by the time the task force turned in around eleven o’clock each night. Hux still appreciated his levity despite the seriousness of the case, but, if he was being honest, he was happier to see Ren after a hard day. He wasn’t oblivious to what that meant for the choice he would eventually have to make, but he wasn’t rushing into it—not when there was so much else to think about.

Today—Friday—Hux was standing at the whiteboard making notes. He hadn’t yet found a way to introduce the description of perpetrator Kara had given him; he had no good explanation for how he had come by that knowledge. But it had been circling around in his mind nonstop, along with the man he had seen nearby Kara’s house: the one wearing a baseball cap, perhaps to conceal the scarring on his face. They matched too well to be ignored and many serial murderers enjoyed coming to their own crime scenes and taking part in the chaos. That did seem a bit too ostentatious for this killer, but he was emboldened by his success, now.

“Kylo,” Hux had asked the night before, when he was teetering on the edge of sleep but still sharp enough to dwell on the case, “what does Snoke look like?”

Ren had given him a curious look, but had replied, “Well, I don’t want to be an asshole, but the first thing you notice is the scars. He was in a car accident as a teenager—drunk driver—and he barely got out alive. The burns...weren’t good.”

Hux came alert right away. “Facial scarring?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Hux shifted to face Ren, and Ren moved his arm as if to wrap it around Hux’s shoulders. “You heard what Kara said. A man with scars attacked her. I think it could be him.”

Ren rubbed his tongue on the inside of his cheek, contemplating. “I guess it’s possible. If it turns out that he did this, that he framed me up, I’m going to kill him myself.”

“Don’t say that,” Hux had told him. “We’ll see justice served without making a murderer of you.”

Ren had smiled. “Okay, Doc. Okay.”

At the whiteboard, Hux hovered over the list of suspects, which was still very small and unsubstantiated. He wanted so much to write Snoke’s name, but he had no cause to. Phasma and Poe would chastise him for it. Annoyed, he capped the blue marker and dropped it into the metal tray at the base of the board. The clatter startled the others in the room, which had been pin-drop silent.

“You all right over there, Hux?” Phasma asked, twirling a chewed-up pen between her fingers.

“Fine,” he replied, albeit tersely. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I think I need a break.”

Poe rose from his chair, making his way over to him. “Why don’t you go and get some shuteye? It’s almost ten-thirty.”

Hux didn’t want to leave them if they still intended to work, and he said as much, but Poe countered, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll turn in soon. Just head to bed. Start fresh in the morning.” He squeezed Hux’s shoulder. “We need you sharp, Doctor.”

“Very well,” said Hux, allowing himself to slump and betray his exhaustion. “I have my phone if you want to reach me.”

“Sounds good,” Phasma said, though her head was already bent back down to the reports in front of her.

Hux gathered up his blazer and briefcase and, on a whim, removed the pretty senior yearbook picture of Kara from her file and tucked it into his pocket. Then he made the solemn trudge back to the parking lot of the PD headquarters. His Civic was bathed in lamplight, one of many small islands of illumination in the lot. A pair of officers were smoking by their patrol car and they raised their cigarettes in salute has Hux passed by.

Hux sat heavily down into the driver’s seat of the Civic, bracing his hands against the steering wheel to stretch his neck. The sensible thing was to go back to the hotel and fall asleep to Ren’s voice again, but before he realized what he was doing, he had his phone out and was typing in the address of First Order Bar and Grill in Raleigh, North Carolina.

It wasn’t that far from the north side of the university campus and would take Hux only a few minutes to get to. Though he knew it was foolish to go alone to interview someone he suspected of multiple murders, it was the only way he was going to get to talk to Norbert Snoke. He started the GPS and the Civic’s engine and drove out onto Six Forks Road.

First Order turned out to be a two-story building with large open-air verandas, both the ground floor and second floor filled with young patrons with drinks in their hands. Hux could hear some kind of indie folk music playing from inside as he came up the sidewalk to the front door.

“ID,” said a burly bouncer outside. Hux shot him a glance, eyebrows raised, and he shrugged. “On Friday and Saturday nights we card everybody.”

Hux produced his driver’s license and got an iridescent green stamp on the back of his hand in exchange. It felt like university all over again. Still, he slipped inside and into the din of conversation and mood lighting. The bar smelled of freshly hewn timber and dark beer—pleasant, even if the newness would probably fade with time. Two young women in matching black t-shirts were tending bar, deftly making drinks or pulling taps.

Hux cut through the crowd to find a space at the end of the bar, where it was quiet enough to exchange a word or two with one of the bartenders when she came over to serve him. While he waited, he observed the other patrons. They were mostly college students, but a few business people out after work were scattered among them. Hux could easily see Ren in a place like this. It wasn’t overly fancy or too run-down; a happy medium that would have suited him well. If Hux had come in once, many years ago, maybe he would have let Ren chat him up and take him home.

“Doc, you faked me out. I was waiting for you at the hotel.”

Speak of the Devil. There was Ren, tucked into a back corner by Hux’s end of the bar.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Hux pulled his phone from his pocket and feigned speaking to someone to cover his one-sided conversation. “I want to talk to Snoke,” he said.

Ren frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you want me to come with you, before?”

“Well, yes,” said Hux, “but I thought of this rather spur-of-the-moment. I’m sorry I didn’t, ah, summon you.”

“I’m here now,” Ren said, if a little icily, “so let’s get this done.”

He pointed ahead of him, toward the bar, and Hux saw that one of the girls was making her way to him. He quickly put down his phone.

“Evening, honey,” said the bartender, eyeing him up with a congenial smile. “What can I get you?”

“A scotch on the rocks, please,” Hux replied, “and I was wondering if the owner was around. I have something I’d like to speak to him about.”

The girl put her hands on her hips. “He’s in the office as far as I know, but he doesn’t usually just come down to talk to people when he’s busy. I can call up and ask, though. What’s your name?”

“Dr. Armitage Hux. And you can tell Mr. Snoke that I would like to speak to him about Ben Solo.”

No recognition of the name crossed the bartender’s face and she turned, saying, “Okay. Give me five minutes.”

Hux leaned on the bar, as did Ren beside him.

“I don’t know if he’s going to talk to you if he knows it’s about me,” Ren said. “You could have told him something to get his attention and then changed the subject when you got it.”

“There’s no point skirting the issue,” said Hux. “If he won’t talk to me about you, then I can’t compel him to do so. He’s not under court order, after all.”

“Yeah,” Ren muttered. “It’ll be weird to see him again after all these years. The last time I did, he was on the stand telling the jury I was a miscreant. To be honest, I didn’t think he’d sell me out like that. Maybe stupidly, I thought we got along fine.”

Hux glanced at him, inching his hand close to where Ren’s lay. “People can be hard to read. And they lie prodigiously.”

Ren huffed. “That’s the truth if ever I heard it. It’s hard to find good people sometimes.” He winked. “You’re a rare find, Doc.”

“So are you, Kylo,” Hux said, earnest. “I’m glad to know you.”

“Me, too, Hux,” said Ren softly. “Sometimes I think whatever cosmos or higher power or whatever there is out there gave me over to you for a reason. Maybe to clear my name, maybe something else.”

Around them, the noise of the bar seemed to fade, until Ren was Hux’s only focus. “‘Gave you over _to_ me?’” he said.

Ren moved in closer to him, until their brows were nearly touching. “Like it or not, Doc, I’m _your_ ghost.” He blinked slowly. “ _Do_ you like it?”

Hux murmured, “I think I do.”

“Hey, Dr. Whatever,” said the bartender as she appeared again with a highball glass full of whiskey. “Mr. Snoke will see you upstairs.” She jerked her head toward a back staircase with a velvet rope across it, from which a “Staff Only” sign hung. “Just go on up. And the drink is on the house.”

Hux raised the glass in thanks and went to the staircase, unclipping the rope and then replacing it when he had moved up onto the first step. Upstairs was a small, brightly lit and utilitarian office space—a stark contrast to the atmosphere of the rest of the bar. There were only two doors, one of which led to a bathroom. Hux knocked on the other one.

“Come in.”

Hux turned the handle and entered, finding a middle-aged man—neatly dressed and with a half-empty tumbler in front of him, condensation forming a puddle around it—seated at a mid-century modern steel desk. As Ren had said, Hux’s attention was immediately drawn to the gnarled scarring on the left side of his face and down his chin and neck. His dark eyes were bright, though, set deep into their sockets under a pronounced brow. One eyebrow was present, but the other eye ridge was naked. It made for a disconcerting asymmetry that Hux did his best not to focus on.

“Mr. Snoke,” he said instead. “Good evening. Thank you for seeing me.”

Snoke gestured with a hand over which he wore a black leather glove to the chair across from him. “Dr. Hux, was it? Please sit. You wanted to speak to me about Ben Solo.” He sat back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him on the desktop. “It’s been years since I’ve heard that name.”

“Yes,” Hux said as he took the chair—plush and comfortable. “I’m doing some research on his case—I’m a psychologist, you see—and I was hoping you might tell me a bit about your acquaintance with him and your role in his case.” To his right, he saw Ren standing with his arms crossed, glowering at Snoke.

“Well,” Snoke said, “I wouldn’t call him a friend, but he was frequently at my establishment in Charlotte. We talked some over the years.”

Hux fixed him with a cool gaze. “And do you remember the women he killed?” He would have to apologize to Ren later for leaving out the “allegedly,” but he wanted to put Snoke at ease without implying that he had any reason to believe Ren was innocent.

Snoke betrayed nothing with his expression, saying evenly, “They weren’t regular customers, but I saw many pictures of them after Solo was arrested and I recall their names.”

“God, I hate when people call me that,” Ren grumbled from the corner. “Solo is my dad’s name.”

Hux dared not look at him. He said to Snoke, “Of course. Did you witness...Ben with them on the nights they were killed?”

Snoke’s eyes narrowed somewhat at that, the pupils dilating. “I did.”

“So, you noticed he had a type,” Hux said, pressing.

“Goddammit, Doc,” Ren snarled. “I don’t have a _type_. They were just nice girls, and I struck out anyway.”

Hux flicked a hand toward him to silence him. Snoke noted the motion and gave him a queer look, but said, “Well, I suppose he did. But he had other interests on other nights. You’re aware he was bisexual.”

_Was._ Snoke knew Ren was dead. He had likely been keeping up with him since he had gone into prison. His suggestion that he hadn’t heard his name in years was a blatant lie.

“Yes, I know that,” Hux said quickly, to keep the conversation on track. “But all the murdered girls were similar in appearance. Surely you noted that from the photographs.”

“Perhaps I did,” said Snoke. His tone was far too flat, too noncommittal to ring true.

Hux scratched his chin, where more stubble than he was comfortable with was growing in since his long-ago shave that morning. “Are you married, Mr. Snoke?”

Snoke flinched. “What?”

“Oh, never mind,” Hux said, waving him off. “I was just thinking of how my wife would enjoy your new establishment here. I’ll absolutely have to bring her.” He reached into his pocket, where he had tucked the picture of Kara. He offered it to Snoke. “This is her.”

Recognition and a flash of anger swept across Snoke’s face, the scars by his mouth twisting. The photograph trembled slightly in his white-knuckled hand. Seconds later, he shoved it back at Hux. “She’s lovely,” he ground out.

“She is,” said Hux, putting the picture away. “Well, Mr. Snoke. I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”

As he got to his feet, Snoke eyed him with a mix of bewilderment and suspicion, staying seated. He didn’t offer either of his hands—gloved or bare—to Hux to shake.

“Goodbye,” Hux said with cheerfulness he didn’t need to feign. He left the office hastily and swept down the stairs. He realized only as he exited the bar that he had left his whiskey untouched in Snoke’s office.

Hux met Ren in his car, and Ren immediately started: “That was brilliant, Doc! Showing him the picture of Kara like that. Did you see his face? He knew exactly who she was.”

“He might have seen her on the news,” Hux cautioned, but inwardly he was vibrating with fearful elation. There was no mistaking it; Snoke had seen that girl and, if Hux’s intuition was correct, stalked and killed her.

“You don’t really buy that,” said Ren. “You think he did it. And I think so, too. You’ve got to tell the task force.”

Hux dipped his chin to his chest. “How exactly? ‘Oh, Phasma, by the way, I went against protocol and spoke to a person of interest, who is not actually a person of interest at all.’”

“Hmph. Okay, maybe it’s complicated, but there’s got to be something you can do.” He made a face. “What about Dameron? He’s probably sweet enough on you by this point that he’d do an interview.”

“Oh,” Hux said, flushing. “I shouldn’t do that.”

“What if it saves another girl’s life?” Ren asked.

Hux sighed. “All right. I’ll go find him.”

“ _Tonight_?”

Facing him, Hux said, “Is there a reason to wait?”

Ren chewed his lip, but shook his head. “Guess not. But you’re going to have to go to his room, probably. Bet you he’ll get _ideas_.”

Hux hesitated. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that him showing up at Poe’s door at eleven o’clock at night could be construed as a proposition, but this matter couldn’t be put off. Hux wanted them to bring Snoke in _tomorrow_.

“I’ll set him straight,” Hux said. “And...you can be in the room.”

“Your chaperone?” said Ren. “Great.”

Hux gave him a withering look. “What else do you want me to do, Kylo? I told you I’m considering this issue, and I _am_. And this—tonight—is business.”

“Fine,” Ren grumbled, crossing his arms with distinct petulance. “I’ll go. Just get it done so we can _leave_.”

“All right,” Hux said. Sticking his key into the ignition, he drove them back toward the hotel.

The valet took charge of the Civic at the door and Hux—Kylo on his heels—went directly to the third floor to find Poe. He knocked on the door of room 314. There was a shuffling from the other side and then the sliding of the security chain and the clunk of the deadbolt.

“Hux?” Poe said, peering out at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Hux replied, “but I need to share something with you.” Quieter: “It’s about the case. May I come in?”

Poe stepped back and held the door open. “Sure.” He stifled a yawn as Hux went into the room: a mirror image of his own. Everything was fairly tidy, from a compact suitcase on the luggage rack to two blazers hanging in the open closet. “Do you want some coffee?” Poe asked.

Hux didn’t like to think how much he had already had that day, but he said, “Yes, that would be nice.”

The machines only made one cup at the time—and it was watery at best—so Poe put in a little filter sachet and filled the carafe from the bathroom sink.

“Well,” he said, sitting at the edge of the bed while the coffee brewed, “what’s going on?”

Hux was too keyed-up to sit, instead pacing in front of Poe while he rubbed his palms together. He wasn’t quite sure where to start, but when he caught sight of Ren seated in one of the chairs by the window, he mustered his courage and began: “Look, I know you’re not going to like that I’ve done this without sanction, but I just had to know.”

Poe braced his hands on his knees. “Okay,” he said, cautious.

“I went to see Norbert Snoke tonight,” said Hux. He gave Poe a summary, ending by producing the photograph of Kara and handing it to him.

When he fell silent, Poe was staring down at the picture, breathing steadily. Slowly—very slowly—he looked up at Hux. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t like this. And neither will Phasma.” He dropped the picture beside him on the bed. “You took away any element of surprise we would have had with Snoke. You effectively tipped him off that we’re looking at him. That was _supremely_ stupid, Hux.”

As if to buy time, Hux went to the coffeemaker and poured some into a paper cup. It was cool enough for him to drink, having sat while he told his story. “I know,” he said, “and I’m sorry, but I _had_ to know. None of you would believe me when I said I suspected him.”

Poe pushed a hand through his hair. “That’s because we have nothing go on! Even _if_ you’re right, he’s going to know we’re onto him and maybe change his pattern. This could compromise everything.”

Hux looked at his reflection in the brownish coffee, ashamed but unwilling to admit that he wasn’t moving in the right direction when it came to Snoke. “Poe, I made a mistake, all right? But he knew her. He knew Kara better than just as someone from a passing glance at the television would. Even if he’s following every detail of the case in the media, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. Even if he’s not the culprit, he has something to do with these crimes.”

“The current crimes or the Ren murders, too?” Poe asked.

“They’re one and the same,” Hux replied. He set his cup down and crouched in front of where Poe sat. “You have to believe me on this. I promise you I’m not wrong.”

Poe took both sides of Hux’s face between his hands, strangely tender when he had been so upset moments before. “I want to,” he said, “but I believe the evidence and there’s just none there. You have to back off, Hux. If you don’t, Phasma will throw you right off the task force.” He stroked Hux’s hair. “And I don’t want to see you go.”

“All _right_ ,” Ren said, storming over. “Tell him to back off, Doc.”

Hux took hold of Poe’s wrists and guided them away from his cheeks. “You’ll tell her about this tomorrow?” he asked.

“I have to,” Poe said. He tipped his chin toward the coffeemaker. “Give me a shot of the hard stuff, will you?”

Hux retrieved the cup he had poured for himself and pressed it into Poe’s hand. Poe drained it in one long gulp, making a half-groaned, satisfied sound when he was finished. With impressive skill, he threw the cup into the wastebasket next to the desk.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to talk to Phasma tomorrow and tell her about this, but I’ll pull for you, if I can. We’ll take a closer look at Snoke.”

“Thank you,” Hux sighed. “I don’t want this to be a problem between you, but I think we have him. Really.” He turned a narrow smile on Ren, who applauded in three short claps.

Poe nodded. “We’ll see if it goes anywhere.” He got up and Hux noticed for the first time that he was in nothing but boxer shorts and an undershirt.

“Oh, my,” Hux said, fumbling. “I should go. Leave you to sleep.”

“You don’t have to,” said Poe. “You can stay a while. I haven’t cleaned out the whole minibar yet. You like vodka?”

Hux made a face. “No.”

Chuckling, Poe said, “How about more coffee, then?” He came closer, just half a pace away from Hux. “Or we can skip that.”

Hux didn’t have to see Ren’s fury to put up his hands, almost touching Poe’s chest, to stop him. And it wasn’t only about Ren being there; Hux genuinely didn’t want it. He said, “Poe, this isn’t the right time for me. We’re in the middle of this investigation; we have bigger things to think about. I’m flattered—sincerely—but it’s best we just keep this professional.”

Poe took a hasty step back. “Of _course_. Hux, I’m so sorry if I’ve been coming on too strong. I’m used to the stress of the job and didn’t think about you not being ready for that.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “An agent has to look for companionship wherever he can find it, around work. That’s not how you are. I completely understand.”

Hux’s defensiveness faded and for a moment he almost regretted breaking it off before it even started—someone who was willing to respect him in that manner was certainly better than the average man in his early thirties. However, the look of bright hopefulness and astonishment on Ren’s face was enough to put his doubts to rest.

“I appreciate that,” Hux said. “Under different circumstances—”

Poe stopped him with a raised hand. “You don’t even have to say it. It’s okay.” He inched toward the door. “I’ll see you out, then?”

“Please.”

They parted at the door, Poe saying a murmured goodnight before shutting it. Hux stood in the hall for a few seconds to gather himself, but then returned to his own floor and room. Unsurprisingly, Ren was already there.

Softly: “Hey, Doc. You all right?”

Hux flopped down onto this back on the bed, his legs hanging over the side and arms akimbo. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Ren came into his peripheral vision. “Really?”

“Yes, Kylo,” Hux said. “I made a perfectly prudent decision. I need to concentrate on the case.”

“Oh.”

Hux winced at Ren’s wounded tone. He turned to see him sitting on the bed beside him, eyes turned down to the floor. Hux sighed. “I know what you want me to say, but I don’t know if I can. There are so many complications, and my attention should be on Snoke, on clearing your name. Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

“Honestly,” Ren said, “I’m dead. What difference is it going to make to me?”

Sitting up, Hux frowned. “I thought you wanted it. Isn’t that why you’re staying on this plane?” To his shock, Ren’s face turned a mottled shade of red. Despite all the lurid things he had said, Hux had never seen him flush.

“It would be nice for my parents, I guess,” said Ren, “but I’m not really here for that.”

Hux braced; he was equal parts afraid of what he would say and hoping he was guessing correctly.

Ren wearily faced him. “I just wanted to stick around because you’re here. I know it’s pretty pathetic, but—”

“Kylo,” Hux said. “You’re not pathetic. And…” He put his hand over the place where Ren’s was on the bedspread. It passed right through, but it was the gesture that mattered. “And I’m very glad you’ve stayed.”

Ren leaned in and said, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Hux smiled fondly. “I would let you.”

“So,” Ren said, hushed, “it’s me? You choose me?”

Despite all the rational parts of him that screamed how stupid of an idea it was, he replied, “Yes, Kylo. It’s you.”

Ren’s face lit up and he reached for Hux. Hux expected him to pass through yet again, but they made solid contact, Ren’s arms closing around Hux’s shoulders.

“What the _hell_?” Ren said. He tightened his hold on Hux, testing it. “I can touch you... _here_.”

Hux was just was baffled, but he went happily into Ren’s embrace. “I don’t know how. I don’t know anything.”

“And I don’t care,” said Ren, “as long as we’re like this right now.” With gentle nudges of his nose against Hux’s cheek, he guided Hux’s face up to his and kissed him.

He was as warm as anyone else Hux had ever been with and his mouth was soft. Hux eased his arms up around his neck, pulling him closer, as Ren wrenched himself around until he was kneeling on the bed with Hux held against him. There was no steady beating of a heart in his chest, but Hux didn’t care, either; he threw himself completely into the kiss.

Ren mumbled Hux’s name as he pressed his lips down Hux’s neck, toward the collar of his shirt. With clever fingers, he tugged at the double Windsor in Hux’s tie and began to loosen it. Hux allowed it, knowing and wanting exactly what Ren had in mind. He had never been quite so acutely aware that he did not have lubricant in his luggage—as though he regularly traveled with it. But there were a great deal of other things they could do without it, and he shivered to think of them all.

Eager to touch more of him, Hux pulled at the back of Ren’s shirt. Ren laughed between kisses at Hux’s throat and said, “Demanding, aren’t you?”

“Don’t give me that now, of all times,” Hux grumbled, still yanking on the fabric.

Chuckling, Ren moved far enough back to get the shirt over his head. He tossed it to the floor, where it was promptly forgotten. Hux was on him immediately, hands all over his chest and shoulders, impressed with the size of him. He absolutely wanted Ren to use that size to pin him down and take what he wanted, a desire he couldn’t remember having had before.

“You’re overdressed for the occasion, Doc,” Ren said, lifting Hux’s tie up and off. “We’d better fix that.”

“Unbelievable,” Hux said, which only made Ren laugh as he started in on the buttons of Hux’s shirt. Unfortunately, business dress was not the easiest to escape when the moment called for it. Ren was halfway down, revealing Hux’s undershirt, when his fingers slipped. He grabbed for the button again, but his hands went through it and through Hux.

“No,” Ren said, dismayed. “You can’t be serious. That can’t be _it_.”

Hux watched in alarm as his solidness faded to translucence again. “Kylo,” he pleaded, hoping this effect would reverse itself as quickly as it has come on. But no, Ren began to fade more and more until he was barely visible.

“Hux!” was the last thing he said as he disappeared.

Left in an empty room again, Hux tried to get his bearings. His body was still hot and pulse thrumming from the prelude to the sex he hoped they would have been having, but his heart was chilled. Something he didn’t understand had happened, and he had no idea what kind of ramifications that was going to have for them—for Ren. He had been here like any other lover and then yanked away without any warning. The only hope Hux had for finding him was to cross into the spirit realm as he slept.

Ignoring his nightly routine, he stripped down to his underwear. He froze, though, as he saw the crumpled-up t-shirt Ren had been wearing still on the floor. Tentatively, he went and picked it up; it smelled of him. Hux pulled the shirt into bed with him and, pulling up the covers, turned out the light. He appealed to whatever had given him his abilities to bring him to Ren tonight.

 

* * *

 

When Hux woke the next morning, he was disappointed, fearful for Ren, and his chest was covered in some kind of silver dust. It was in his sheets, too, but only in the place where he had held Ren’s shirt as he slept. The shirt was gone. Hux gathered up some of the dust and sealed it into a sandwich bag, intending to bring it to Durham as soon as he could get away. He needed to find out what was going on; he needed to find Ren, and if he couldn’t do that by himself, he needed Maz’s help.

However, he had to face Phasma this morning before anything. With heavy limbs, he pried himself out from under the covers and went to the bathroom to clean up. Twenty minutes later, when he was walking through the lobby of the hotel, he wasn’t surprised to see her standing just outside the restaurant in her practical pumps and tailored gray skirt suit.

She grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the door. “We have to talk.”

Hux stumbled along beside her until she delivered him to the passenger side of her sedan. He was inside as quick as he could be, but she had to have preternatural speed to be there scowling at him by the time he sat down.

“I should send you right back to that backwater prison,” she snarled. “What the _hell_ were you thinking last night?”

“I _had_ to know, Phasma!” Hux snapped back. “You were sitting on your hands and I might have identified our murderer while you did it.” He leveled a finger at her. “I’m not one of your agents or on the police force, so I did what I thought was necessary.”

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t give me that horseshit, Armitage. You knew you weren’t supposed to do it and you did it anyway.” Her expression was pinched, disgusted. “I didn’t want to do this, but you made yourself a liability. You’re off the case. Go home.”

Hux fell back against the seat, dumbstruck. He had expected to be scolded, but not thrown off the investigation completely. “Phasma, I—”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t bother apologizing. Pack your things and go back to Pittsboro. The FBI will send you your consultant’s check in a week or so.”

“I see,” said Hux, forced and icy. “Thank you for the opportunity to work on the task force, and I’m sorry for anything I might have compromised.” He reached for the door handle and found the automatic locks had engaged.

Phasma clicked the master switch and they released. “Goodbye, Hux.”

“Goodbye, Phasma,” he said as he got out of the car. He had barely closed the door when she threw the sedan into gear and pulled away.

Hux stood abandoned in the parking lot, staring at the space where the sedan had been parked. He was free to go to Durham now, but it came a steep cost. He couldn’t regret speaking to Snoke, though. It had been all the proof he needed to know he was onto the right man. But it would come to nothing unless Phasma wised up. However, it was out of his control. Sliding his hands forlornly into the pockets of his trousers, he went back into the hotel and to his room to gather his things.

“Did you have a good stay, sir?” the chipper employee at the reception desk said after he had packed and gone to check out. She didn’t hand over his receipt to sign; the FBI had paid for him.

“Yes, thank you,” he mumbled as he wheeled his suitcase across the faux marble floor and outside.

He drove in silence to downtown Durham, parking on the street by Maz’s shop. It was too early for it to be open, but he knocked on the door, making the “Closed” sign rattle just slightly. It wasn’t long before Maz appeared, smiling at him through the glass.

“Morning, Armitage,” she said as she unlocked the door and invited him in. “I was expecting you.”

“I figured you would be,” Hux said, coming inside and heading straight for the back room behind the purple velvet curtain. No surprise, Maz had tea already laid out with some biscuits—cookies—and fresh fruit. He didn’t wait to be told to sit, instead pulling out his regular chair and taking a seat. He picked up a slice of kiwi and popped it into his mouth.

“So,” said Maz, taking the place across from him. “What’s the matter?”

Hux spilled the story in a rush, wrapping up by handing her the sandwich bag of dust. She opened it and sniffed, took a bit onto her finger and tasted it.

“I’ve heard about this,” she said. “It’s a kind of spectral discharge. The shirt didn’t belong on this plane, so it broke down into this substance.” She adjusted her glasses on her pert nose. “Mind if I keep it?”

“Go right ahead,” Hux replied. He had no use for it, after all. “What do you think, then? Any idea how Kylo could have been _physically_ on our plane?”

She set the bag of dust down on the table and picked up her tea. “There’s some lore around it, mostly to do with what you might call ‘traditional’ hauntings. Most of ghost sightings are imagined, but there is the possibility of a spirit lingering in a place after death. Like your Kylo, they usually can’t interact with the physical world, but it’s said that if they are angry enough or sad enough, their emotions can allow them to take on a more solid form and throw objects or slam doors—like your average haunting.”

“As far as I can tell,” Hux said, “Kylo was neither angry nor sad. In fact, he was clearly very happy.”

“Well, the manifestations happen when a spirit feels a strong emotion,” Maz said. She raised her thin eyebrows. “If he feels strongly enough for you, it might have given him the ability.”

Hux hid his expression in his tea, drinking some even if it was still too hot and scalded his tongue.

“Oh, my,” said Maz with a sly smile. “You’re a little spooked that he’s sweet on you.”

“Not exactly ‘spooked,’” said Hux, “but we’ve known each other such a short time. It’s hardly enough for him to feel _that_ much for me.”

Maz clicked her tongue. “Just because you’ve never fallen in love right off the bat doesn’t mean someone else can’t.”

Hux tried not to flinch. _Love._ Ren surely couldn’t be in love with him.

“It’s all right to be overwhelmed by that, Armitage,” Maz said. “You’ve always been reserved. Your Kylo clearly isn’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t care about him,” Hux said on half-sigh, “but it’s so complicated.”

Maz shrugged. “Not as much for you, as a medium, as it would be for someone who doesn’t have your gift. You’ve been to the spirit plane with him, which means you’re very deeply connected. And he came to you bodily. That’s no small thing.”

Hux rubbed a tea-warmed hand over his face. “He might cross over at any point.”

“Not if you solidify the bond. I told you before: it’s possible to bind him to you indefinitely.”

“I’m not ready to take that kind of step, Maz,” he said. “And I don’t even know where he is right now. He disappeared last night and hasn’t been back.”

She said, “It takes a tremendous amount of energy to manifest like he did. There’s a refractory period where he might not be able to pass over to our realm. He’s probably resting up in limbo.”

That was some comfort, but Hux still wanted to see him. “Then I need to get there. I want to make sure he’s all right.”

Max chuckled. “You sure you aren’t falling in love with him?”

Hux’s cheeks burned. He was lost in this; it was too much to process right now. “I just need to get to him. I’ll deal with the rest later.”

“Then you’ll need this,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her smock and producing the sunburst amulet Hux had seen before. It hung from a gold chain. He held out his hand and she dropped the amulet into his palm.

“How much?” he asked.

“For you and your Kylo,” she replied, “nothing.”

Hux closed his hand around the amulet briefly before he took it and hung it around his neck. He had to loosen his tie and undo the collar of his shirt to tuck it inside. It was cool against the skin of his chest. “Thank you,” he said to Maz, “for everything. You’ve always been good to me.”

“You deserve it, Armitage,” she said. “You deserve to be happy.”

He blinked solemnly at her, tense and swimming in uncertainty. “He _does_ make me happy.”

She smiled, taking his hand between both of hers. “Embrace that. Let yourself feel.”

“I’m not very good at that,” he murmured.

“Then let him guide you,” said Maz. “Give up the lead for once. I think you’ll find that you have a lot of untapped feelings that, when let loose, will steer you right. You listened to your intuition about that FBI agent, didn’t you? He wasn’t right for you. Despite all the complications you think are there for you and your Kylo, you followed your heart and chose him.”

Hux fisted his free hand. He had always trusted his rational mind more than anything; he was a scientist, for God’s sake. But Ren mixed him up in ways he hadn’t known before—there was no denying that. But was it his heart that had made him choose Ren? He didn’t have the first idea, and he was afraid to face what bringing his heart into the equation would mean.

“Go on home now,” Maz said. “Have a lie-down and go find your sweetheart.”

“ _Maz_ ,” Hux grumbled. “He’s not—”

She cut him off: “Follow his lead, Armitage, and you’ll find that you already know he is that.”

On unsteady legs, Hux rose and thanked her for breakfast. The amulet felt strange and heavy around his neck. “See you again soon,” he said to Maz.

“Bye, kiddo. Drive safe.”

Hux turned on the radio as a distraction as he drove the familiar roads back to his house. He hummed tunelessly along to some of the songs, trying to focus on them instead of what Maz had said. He didn’t need to be thinking of hearts and leads and love when he got to Ren’s apartment in limbo.

The sky was darkening with threatening rain clouds when he bumped along his gravel driveway. A few wet stains marked the brick path to the door, but the first rumblings of thunder didn’t begin until he was safely inside and carrying his suitcase up to his bedroom.

He wasn’t overly tired, but he quickly changed into a pair of sleep pants and a loose shirt and slid under the covers of his bed. The amulet sat solidly between his flat pectorals; he rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but he closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the memories of Ren’s little apartment, hoping the thoughts alone would bring him there.

Rain began to patter against the skylight in his room, light to start then them heavier as the heavens opened with a peal of thunder. While the storm might have kept him awake, here it soothed him and eased him into a gentle sleep, in which he sought Ren.

 

* * *

 

Hux didn’t have to go far through limbo; the square outline of Ren’s apartment was only yards away. Hux hastened there and rapped sharply on the door. “Kylo?” he called. “Are you there?” Silence greeted him, so he knocked again, harder. “Kylo!”

The slide of the security chain came first and then Ren threw open the door. “Hux!” he said quickly, grabbing him around the shoulders and pulling him into his arms. “God, it’s good to see you.”

Hux hugged him hard, breathing in the same scent his t-shirt had retained. “Are you all right? What happened when you disappeared?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Ren said, “but just let me do this first.”

He kissed Hux’s mouth. Hux went into it enthusiastically, parting his lips for Ren’s tongue. They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few minutes, pressed close. When, at last, they parted, Ren drew Hux into the apartment and took him to the kitchen bar, where they both sat.

“Tell me,” Hux said, still holding Ren’s solid, warm hand.

Ren squeezed his fingers and began, “Well, as soon as I...left your room, I was zapped right back here. I almost fell down when I landed, I was so exhausted. It was like I had just run an obstacle course and done the Marines’ fitness test one after another. I wanted to go back and find you again, but I couldn’t make it happen. I ended up collapsing on the bed and sleeping for fourteen hours. If there are hours here, anyway.”

“Maz told me there was a period when you need to recover your strength,” said Hux, “before you can come back to the physical plane.”

“Yeah, I think I’m still in it,” Ren said. “I had been trying to find you, but I couldn’t get a fix. I thought for a minute that I wouldn’t be able to find you again.” He ran his free hand over Hux’s hair. “But you came to me.”

Hux reached into his shirt and pulled out the amulet. “This helped. Maz gave it to me.”

Ren took it to inspect. “It’s pretty.” He brought it to his lips and kissed it. “And it got you here. I’m so glad.”

“As am I,” said Hux.

Ren gave him another quick kiss. “Did Maz tell you how I did what I did? Got a body in your world?”

“She did.” He tamped down the trepidation and told him, “It’s a matter of deep emotion. If you felt something strongly enough, you could physically manifest. She said it’s usually anger or fear, but I suppose for you it was”—he forced himself to hold Ren’s gaze—“happiness.”

“You’re damn right it was,” Ren said firmly. “But you mean that if I was worked up enough, I could do that again? Or I could rattle chains and write ‘redrum’ on the walls of the hotel room?”

“In theory,” said Hux, amused despite himself.

“Huh,” Ren said. “That’s pretty wild.” He chewed his lower lip. “And if it meant we could pick up where we left off yesterday…”

Hux huffed a laugh. “Yes, I suppose so.” Ren smiled, and Hux asked, “Would you want to do that, really? Slam doors and write frightening messages?”

Ren shrugged. “I mean, it would be fun to scare some people—what good is the afterlife if you can’t mess around _a little_ —but I don’t know that I’d want to get to that point. I don’t want to be a restless, angry ghost.”

“Are you angry?” Hux said. “About what happened to you?”

“A little, I guess. But more about prison than about being dead. I’m out, after all, and the company sure is better.” He reached out a hand and curled it around Hux’s narrow wrist. The thumb and forefinger easily touched, making a circle.

Hux smiled, if a little sorrowfully. “It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. You should still be living a full life in Charlotte, in this place.” He raised a brow. “Or maybe in a slightly bigger place.”

“Your house is big. You looking for a roommate?” Ren asked.

Hux answered quickly and, to his surprise, honestly: “I wouldn’t mind. The house gets very lonely at times.”

Ren squeezed his wrist. “Well, now it’s haunted, so there’s something.”

“Yes,” said Hux, fondly.

“You want a beer or some coffee?” Ren asked. “I’ve got water, too, in spades.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” Hux replied.

Ren jumped off of his bar stool and rounded the bar into the kitchen proper and, rooting around in one of the small wooden cabinets above the counter, produced a tin of Trader Joe’s whole bean and a filter for the stained coffee machine next to the sink. “Coming right up,” he said, pouring beans into a small grinder.

Hux stayed sitting while Ren worked, his back to him. His black undershirt advertised the breadth of his shoulders and his loose shorts—almost boxers, Hux was interested to note—ended mid-thigh, leaving his long, dark-haired legs bare. He had on cheap flip flops old enough to be contoured to his feet.

“Do you wake up from these little trips tired, Doc?” he said when he turned around to lean against the counter. “Like when you have a lot of dreams and it’s like you barely slept?”

“Maybe sometimes,” said Hux, “but I haven’t noticed it much. I don’t think it takes much effort for me to come here, especially not with the amulet to ease the way.”

Ren’s hands went to his hair, which he pulled back and up as if to put it in a tail. He had no elastic to hold it that Hux could see, so he just held it there idly, prominent chin tipped up to accentuate his jawline. Hux imagined kissing along his jaw and nipping his chin. Would Ren laugh, he wondered, or make some of the deep sounds he had made when they had been wrapped up together on his bed those days ago. His long neck would look quite good marked with little love bites.

“Something on your mind, Doc?” Ren said. He released his hold on his hair and it hung down over his ears again.

Hux tried his best to play it off: “Nothing of consequence. Just a passing thought.” He tipped his head toward the bed and television, realizing something was paused on the screen. “What were you watching?”

“ _Ghost Hunters_ ,” Ren replied, his expression perfectly neutral.

“You’re not serious,” Hux said.

Ren chuckled. “No, but you have to admit it would be pretty funny. It’s _Brideshead Revisited._ Movie adaptation of the book.”

“I’ve heard of it,” said Hux.

Ren paused to pour two mugs of coffee for them, handing one to Hux. “You want to watch?”

“All right,” Hux said, slipping from the stool and heading toward Ren’s bed.

Ren followed in steady, sedate steps, waiting a few paces from the bed as Hux climbed onto it. “I sure like the look of you there, Doc,” he said.

Hux set his coffee on the bedside table and crooked his finger. Ren grinned and stalked over, abandoning his own mug on his side and all but tackling Hux into the pillows. Hux laughed at their tangle of limbs, succeeding in encircling Ren’s hips with his legs. His soft pajama pants were rucked up to his knees, and Ren set to rubbing his hands along Hux’s skinny calves.

“I also wouldn’t mind if we _didn’t_ watch the movie,” he said, nuzzling Hux’s neck.

Hux hummed, pleased. “Let’s pick it up later.”

Kylo found his way to Hux’s lips and delved into him again. He hitched Hux’s legs up higher, bringing their cocks together. Neither was hard, but it wouldn’t take long, Hux expected. He indulged in what he had thought about before: nibbling at Ren’s chin and down his throat, sucking a few little marks into his pale skin. Ren made a low sound as he did it, Hux feeling the vibrations of his voice. Hux grasped at the thin shorts Ren wore, hands on his buttocks.

“Let me get them off,” Ren mumbled into Hux’s hair. “You, too. I’ve been dreaming of seeing you naked, and I’m not in the mood to wait.”

They parted reluctantly, but right away both of them were pulling at their clothes. Hux yanked his t-shirt over his head and threw it away, careless of where it ended up. He wore no underwear under his pajama pants, so as soon as he pushed them down his legs, he was in nothing at all. Ren matched him layer for layer, until they were both bare and looking each other over hungrily.

Ren wasn’t tightly toned—there was a little softness at his belly—but his chest was defined and flat nipples pink. A wide waist led to square hips and, below, a thatch of dark hair. Ren noticed when Hux’s gaze stuck there and he said, sheepishly, “I wasn’t so big on keeping things trimmed while I was in prison. I could give it a quick shave it bothers you.”

Hux took hold of his hips. “Don’t you dare go away. It doesn’t bother me.” To illustrate the point, he ran in fingers through the hair to take hold of the base of Ren’s cock. “This is what matters.”

Ren wrapped his hand around Hux’s, guiding him in stroking up and down to bring himself to full hardness. Hux watched raptly as he filled out under his fingers, already tingling at the thought of taking him into his body.

“I want you inside me,” Hux said. “Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah,” Ren replied, a bit breathless. “But let me take care of you first.”

Hux shook his head where is rested on the pillows. He had never said something quite so lewd before, but Ren brought out a great deal of new things in him. He said, “I want to come while you’re in me.”

Ren groaned, putting his hands beside Hux’s head to swoop down and kiss him. “Anything you want,” he murmured. “Anything.”

His position brought his cock next to Hux’s and the brush of him made Hux tremble. The hair between his own thighs was red as that on his head, but he kept it very neatly managed. He left the trail down from his navel, though, strangely fond of that.

“Do you prep yourself?” Ren asked.

“If I’m in a hurry,” Hux replied. “But I, ah, I’d like to take our time with this.”

Ren bumped his long nose against Hux’s. “I’d like that, too. Let me just get what we need.” He rolled over onto the left side of the bed and fished in the drawer in the bedside table. He brought out a nearly full bottle of lubricant and a foil-wrapped condom. “I don’t know if we need this under the circumstances, but better safe than sorry, right?”

Hux smiled. “Your sense of responsibility is quite fetching, Kylo.”

“Safety is sexy, huh?” Ren laughed. “Good. I like a man who wants me to wrap it up.”

“Good lord,” Hux said, shoving Ren’s substantial shoulder.

Ren only grinned and set the condom aside for now. He laid a hand on Hux’s thigh and said, “You want to do this on your back or your knees?”

Hux considered, but figured one would be easier for him to take. “Knees,” he replied.

“Perfect,” said Ren. He sat back to allow Hux to turn over and rise up onto his knees and elbows. Pulling a pillow forward, he offered it to Hux. “Lie down. Relax.”

Hux took it and leaned down onto it, presenting his ass for Ren to see. He might have been shy about it once, but he wasn’t self-conscious that Ren wouldn’t like what he saw. In fact, he knew quite immediately that Ren _did_ like it. His hands landed on Hux’s buttocks and spread him wide seconds before his face was buried between them, his tongue over Hux’s entrance.

“God, _Kylo_!” Hux cried. “What are you _doing_?”

Whatever reply he got was muffled and unintelligible, and right after Ren went back to laving at him. Hux wouldn’t have expected it to feel quite as good as it did, but he was already falling into the feeling of Ren’s strong tongue at his rim and then—shockingly—pushing inside of him.

A large hand came between his legs to massage his testicles while Ren lapped over and into him. Hux mumbled expletives mixed with Ren’s name into the pillow he clutched to his front as Ren worked. He yelped once as Ren bit down on the meat of his buttock and sucked the skin between his teeth, surely leaving a mark.

“How’re you feeling?” Ren asked a few minutes later, when his hand was curled around the base of Hux’s cock.

“Words fail,” Hux replied, thighs shaking as his heart beat strongly in his chest.

“Good,” Ren said. “I’ll get you ready now?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

The snap of a bottle cap sounded and then there was a wet, insistent finger easing into him. It had been a while since Hux had last been penetrated, but his body recognized the intrusion and his muscles began to relax. Ren rubbed just inside, coaxing the tension away before slipping deeper and seeking out the sensitive places there. With his left hand, he stroked Hux’s back, down the length of his knobby spine.

“You’re amazing, Hux,” he said. “This is better than anything I could have imagined. You’re going to feel so good around me. And I’ll do it just how you like it. All you have to do is tell me.”

“Then give me more,” said Hux, pushing back against Ren’s knuckles.

Ren slowly withdrew. He circled Hux’s entrance with two fingers before slipping them in. It took on a few strokes for Hux’s body to give, and Ren sighed. “You take it so well.”

Hux said, “I like how it feels: being full. I’m ready for another finger, and then...don’t wait, Kylo.”

“Christ, Hux,” he heard as Ren added his ring finger and pushed all three deep, spreading them slightly to stretch. Hux groaned into it, mouth falling open against the soft pillowcase.

“Enough,” Hux insisted after only a few strokes. “I’m ready.”

Ren planted a kiss on his tailbone. “Okay.”

He left Hux empty for only the span of time it took him to tear open the condom packet and put it on. Hux waited anxiously, holding his tongue against demanding he forget the whole thing and just fuck him bare.

“Take a breath,” Ren said as he lined up to enter him. Hux did and Ren slid past the ring of muscles and into the softness beyond. He wasn’t a small man and Hux was gasping by the time he was finally fully seated. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it took some adjustment on Hux’s part. “Can I move?” Ren asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied. “Not too fast to start.”

True to his word, Ren obeyed every one of Hux’s instructions. He began steadily, with gentle thrusts that gave Hux time to get used to him. When Hux bid him go faster, he did, bending over Hux’s back and kissing his shoulder blades and the nape of his neck. He brought himself deep that way, and it had Hux crying out. Fortunately, in this place, there was no one to hear him.

“Lie down on your back,” Hux said when his arms had begun to ache from holding himself up. “I want to try something.” It wasn’t an easy position per se, but it was his absolute favorite.

Ren pulled out and lay on the rumpled bedspread. “You going to ride me?” he asked.

Hux shook his head. He turned his back to Ren and slung his legs over Ren’s hips, facing his feet. Ren’s cock he guided back into himself, the slide much easier this time. “Help me fall back,” he said.

Ren brought his hands up to Hux’s shoulders and pulled him carefully down until he was lying on his back against Ren’s chest. Hux put his right hand up and into Ren’s hair, taking a handful. “Can you manage like this?” Hux said.

“Mm, I think so,” Ren replied. He adjusted himself slightly, until he was holding Hux’s legs open with a hand on each thigh. Rolling his hips up, he pushed his cock deeper. “That right?”

Hux turned his head to kiss his cheek, his temple. “Perfect.”

Ren increased his pace, bumping Hux up and down with each thrust. Hux dug his toes into the sides of Ren’s legs to keep himself from shifting too much, and then took his own cock in hand and started to jerk himself with purpose.

“That’s it,” Ren whispered in his ear, kissing between the words. “I want you to come like this. Feel you tighten up around me. I won’t be able to take it, probably. I’m already getting close.”

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Hux said, the words punched out by his efforts.

“No,” said Ren, “but I will.”

They exchanged a badly angled, messy kiss while Hux fisted his cock and Ren took him powerfully from underneath. They panted and groaned, Hux holding tight to Ren’s hair and Ren splitting Hux open as he pried his thighs apart.

“I’m almost there,” Hux said breathlessly as his climax built. “Don’t stop, Kylo. Don’t—oh, _God_!” The orgasm swept him up in mindless sensation, spattering across his stomach and chest in heated stripes.

Ren didn’t relent, cursing and saying how he was ready, he was there, he was breaking apart. He made a guttural, unrestrained sound as he came into the condom, his body tense and jerking with each shock of pleasure. They rode it out together, until they were both boneless and sated.

“ _Wow_ ,” Ren said after they had come down.

“Mmhm” was all Hux could manage as a reply. Ren was going soft inside of him, but he wasn’t in a rush to get up. Lazily, he turned to find Ren’s mouth again, only to have their noses meet and bump against each other. They both laughed.

“We should get cleaned up,” said Ren. “You want me to carry you to the shower?”

“Hardly,” Hux scoffed. “Walking tomorrow might be a little difficult, but right now I’m fine.”

“Sassy after sex, aren’t you?” Ren said, tickling Hux’s side.

Hux flinched. “Don’t do that,” he ordered, but there wasn’t much conviction behind it.

“Fine, fine, but get up and head to the bathroom, Doc. The water’s nice and hot. One of the good things about this place.”

Their skin was slick with sweat and the spend on Hux’s chest was cold. He had to admit that a shower sounded exquisite. The bathroom was nearby, so he led the way, finding the light switch to the right of the door. The tile was a hideous hospital wall green and the room itself tiny, but if the water was hot, Hux would take it.

Ren snuck behind him to start the spray. He had stealthily removed the condom and tossed it away in some hidden wastebasket, but the hair between his legs was damp with lubricant. He tested the temperature of the water hastily before gesturing for Hux to step in.

“Not much room, but it’ll work,” he said.

Hux went in, turning his face blissfully up into the water and wiping at his chest.

“Here you go,” said Ren, sliding a blue bar of soap up to his sternum for him to take.

Hux did—gratefully—and began to scrub himself clean. Ren stood at his back, holding his hips at times and others just stroking his back.

“So, with that amulet, you can come here whenever you want?”

“That’s what I was told,” Hux said. “Are you going to want me here every night?”

Ren nipped at the shell of his ear. “Is that even a question? I plan to test out every position you can think of, and then maybe a few you can’t. I want you to get inside _me_ next time.” He reached around to cup Hux’s cock. “I bet this feels incredible.”

Hux swatted his hand away. “Give me a few minutes to recover. I’m not a teenager.”

“Okay, hands off, Doc, I promise.” He moved as far away as he could in the small cubicle—it wasn’t far. “I’m done. Want me to microwave your coffee?”

“Yes, please,” said Hux. “I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Ren winked. “Take all the time you want.” He slipped out the door, disturbing some of the fog the hot shower had created.

Hux gave his ass a more vigorous cleaning when he was alone. They weren’t quite at the point in their relationship that he could just bend over and take care of that while Ren was still around. He paused at that: relationship. Like it or not, they _were_ together, and there were a great deal more emotions involved than Hux was prepared to think about. But he hadn’t felt this strongly about anyone in a long time. He liked having Ren around and definitely liked sleeping with him. He wanted to know more about him—everything Ren was willing to tell. Normally, Hux was slow to warm to someone and would have preferred more days apart than days together, he was quite happy to have Ren always just a call away.

He turned off the shower and dried himself quickly, wrapping the towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom. Ren, seated up in the bed, was wearing his boxers again, but no shirt. He had a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and a matching one for Hux on the nearest nightstand.

“ _Brideshead_?” he asked.

Hux made his way over to where Ren had laid out his pajamas and, hanging the towel from the bathroom door, put them on. When he joined Ren in bed, Ren put an arm around him and pulled him in. He kissed his temple. Hux grabbed his mug and then nestled into Ren’s side. He would spend some more time here before he woke back up on his own plane.


	7. Chapter 7

Hux took a long, leisurely run on Sunday at daybreak, working his physical body, upon which his hours in limbo had no effect. Still, he had woken sated and languid in his bed, with pleasant memories of his night with Ren. They had finished the film with quite a few hours left to spare and as the credits rolled, Ren had gotten on top of Hux and ridden him until they were both spent, sweaty, and in need of another shower. As they washed, Ren touched him all over and lavished him with compliments, something he was apparently going to have to get used to. It didn’t stop him glancing bashfully away and fighting a flush. Ren poked fun at him for it, which only made the reaction worse.

His company was welcome, of course, but Hux did appreciate a run on his own, just to clear his head and allow him to forget for an hour about the crime scenes and the dead girls’ spirits he had seen. He would miss it, though, too; he had come to enjoy it a great deal. But his book was beckoning, and that he was looking forward to.

When he returned to the house, his sweaty clothes were deposited on the bathroom floor in a heap while he jumped in the shower. He was washing his hair when Ren appeared on the other side of the tub, and Hux started at his “Morning, Doc.”

“Good morning,” Hux managed after he had swallowed his heart back down. “How are—oh.” He was completely naked—fitting for joining Hux in the shower, Hux supposed.

Ren grinned. “Like what you see?”

Hux tipped his head back to wash the shampoo from his hair before it ran into his eyes. “I do. I’m glad you’re rested enough to be here. How do you feel?”

“Strong as ever,” said Ren, flexing his biceps and making Hux laugh. “I didn’t want to crash your run, but I thought you might like some company now.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “Just come to appreciate the view? Or make conversation?”

“Can I say both?” He stepped closer to Hux, reaching for him despite his spectral state. “I was thinking we might get up to something. After all, you like to get off in the shower.”

“You voyeur!” Hux said, affronted. “How long have you been watching me—” He couldn’t force himself to say “wanking off in the shower.”

Ren shrugged. “Not _too much_ , I promise. But sometimes it was hard to resist. You make the best noises. Did you ever think of me while you were doing it?”

Hux was red in the face and he knew it. “Well, I— Ah, well, yes, if you must know.”

“Hell yes,” Ren said. “What did I do for you?”

“ _No_ ,” said Hux, holding up a hand. “I draw the line at telling you that. I would like to have some manner of privacy about my fantasies, thank you.”

Ren pouted. “Fine. Be like that.” His expression relaxed, though; Hux knew he was teasing. “Well, can I maybe help you out one time, so you don’t have to use those fantasies?”

Hux eyed him skeptically. “What do you want of me?”

“I can’t take care of you myself,” Ren said, “ _unfortunately_ , so maybe I could talk you through it?”

“Talk me through it?” Hux asked. “You mean tell me what to do to bring myself off?”

Ren waggled his eyebrows. “Exactly. It’s a game. Want to play?”

Hux saw no reason to resist. “Oh, very well.”

He left the shower fifteen minutes later absolutely humming with contentment. It had been his own hand on his cock, but Ren had lain his ghostly one over it and whispered instructions for speed, grip, and what other parts of his own body Hux could touch. Hux hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as he did.

Ren winked out of the room while Hux dressed, but returned when he was in the kitchen fixing breakfast and coffee for himself. He was in his usual jeans and a henley, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair tied up in a half-tail at the back of his head. He hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter while Hux stirred up some oatmeal with nuts and honey.

“What are we going to do today?” he asked, swinging his legs like a small child.

Hux sipped at his coffee. “I should probably catch up with my work. I’ll need to return to Alderaan soon and resume the interviews.”

That, at least, was something he could look forward to, even after his unceremonious departure from the murder investigation. He would call Vera at the bed and breakfast and make arrangements to return this coming week. Warden Tarkin would also need a heads-up.

Ren frowned. “Can I say that I don’t really like you being alone with a bunch of criminals?”

“I would say you don’t have a leg to stand on there,” said Hux, “but you didn’t kill anyone, so I suppose you do. I’ll be fine, Kylo. There’s enough security. And if you like, you can be present.”

“I’d rather not,” Ren said. “I don’t want to go back there.”

Hux took the pot of oatmeal from the stove and turned off the burner. “I absolutely understand. I’ll come see you at night.”

“Damn right you will,” Ren said, smiling brightly. “You want me to leave you alone today while you work?”

“I’ll need some quiet, but you can stay if you want to,” Hux said as he spooned his breakfast into a bowl and garnished it. “I’m happy to turn the pages of a book.”

“Nah,” said Ren, shaking his head. “I can read at home. I won’t bug you.” Dropping down from the counter, he gave Hux a kiss on the cheek, which he couldn’t feel. “Call me when you’re done, Doc, and I’ll come.”

He disappeared, leaving Hux with his oatmeal. Taking it, he went onto the back porch. The thunderstorm had passed while he slept through the night, but the air was heavy with humidity and the smell of wet soil. Lingering clouds masked the morning sun, making everything gray and misty. Hux ran his hand over the glass table nearby, collecting water that dampened his fingertips. It was routine to be alone here, but he didn’t feel lonely; Ren wasn’t far away. His house was haunted, Ren had said. Hux smiled, drying off a chair to sit and eat in the hush of the early day.

The rest of it he spent with his laptop at the dining room table, refreshing himself on his notes. He called Vera, who was thrilled to hear from him and said that his room would be ready when he got there. Warden Tarkin he emailed with the usual formal language, stating his business and how long he planned to spend doing interviews. It would be another two weeks or so before he was finished. Then he could start the analysis and maybe make some inroads on the actual writing of the book.

By one-thirty, his stomach was rumbling for lunch, so, while he had been eating nothing but takeout during his stint with the task force, he ordered pizza with as many vegetables as he could get on it. This evening he would go for some basic groceries.

He ran into two of his neighbors at the store at around six o’clock and they caught up on local gossip, the couple pleased to see that he was around again.

“So, after you’re finished at the prison, you’ll be coming back to stay?” the wife, Anna, asked as she adjusted the plastic basket full of fruit and pasta on her arm.

“I believe so,” Hux replied.

“Then you’ll have to come for dinner at our house,” she said, beaming. “We can’t have you all on your own all the time.”

Hux paused, realizing he wanted to admit that he was seeing someone, but unable to tell the whole truth. He decided on a fair lie: “Well, I do have someone in Charlotte.”

Anna lit up. “Oh, a _boyfriend_? Armitage, that’s lovely. David and I have been hoping these past few years that you would find someone. We’re so happy for you!” To her husband: “Aren’t we, dear?”

David, a small, round man, nodded once. “Of course we are. You’ll have to bring him around for that dinner.”

“Ah, he travels a great deal,” Hux said, “but I’ll try to convince him, if I can.” His fabricated schedule would unfortunately never align with theirs.

Hux left them in the produce section to check out, packing his canvas bags himself. At home, he put all the items in their appointed places and poured himself a glass of wine. “Kylo?” he said into the empty air. “Would you like to join me for a bit?”

Ghostly hands came to rest on his shoulders. Ren replied, in his ear, “I’m already here, Doc.”

They went to the living room to watch a movie after Hux made himself a steak salad, but neither paid much attention to it. Hux was curled up in the crook of the sofa at the far end, his legs tucked under him, keeping his bare feet warm. Though Ren was still incorporeal, he had his head in Hux’s lap and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“What would you have done if you didn’t go into psychology?” Ren asked, peering lazily up at Hux.

“I’m not exactly certain,” Hux replied. “Definitely not the army, as my father wanted me to.” His hand under his chin, fingers moving idly, he considered. “I might have been a medical doctor. Or a psychiatrist. They go through medical school. I certainly would have made more money at it.”

“You seem like you’re pretty comfortable, though,” said Ren. “Nice house, keeping busy with your book.” He winked. “Boyfriend who’s crazy about you.”

Hux smiled down at him, wishing he could put his fingers in Ren’s soft hair. He was willing to admit that he liked the label; he liked having a boyfriend. He was reminded, though, of what he had had to say to Anna and David in the store. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he said, “but it’s not going to be easy to explain to people why I’m spoken for but seem to be an eternal bachelor.”

“Long distance excuse?” Ren said. “Guess it’s better than nothing.” He looked away, folding his hands over his middle. “Will you hate that? Never being able to tell anyone?”

“It would be easier if I could,” Hux said, “but it won’t make a difference to me in the end. I’m not worried about my reputation for appearing single. Will it bother _you_ to be kept a secret?”

Ren took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, the nostrils flaring some. “Maybe a little. I’d like to be able to take you out and show you off. I’m sure people would be wondering what in the hell you were doing with a guy like me, but I’d love it. Is that stupid?”

“You flatter me, Kylo,” said Hux. “I would be proud to go out and flaunt you.”

“Oh, do go on,” Ren teased.

Hux laughed, but said, more soberly, “I’m not going to be unhappy with our arrangement. I went into it knowing it wasn’t going to be without its hitches. But I want you to stay.”

Ren put a spectral hand on Hux’s cheek. “I’m pretty easy to keep in once place. You just have to keep talking like that and looking at me like you do. I’m a lucky man.”

Hux’s fingers passed through Ren’s transparent brow, and his thoughts turned to what Maz had said about binding them permanently. He had said to her then that he wasn’t ready for that, but it was hard to imagine his life now without his tagalong spirit—his lover. The loneliness of many celibate and work-worn years had gone when Ren had arrived and Hux already hated the idea of trying to pursue another relationship with someone else. It wasn’t only that it would be difficult—he wasn’t skilled at such things—but also that he would surely be disappointed by anyone who didn’t have Ren’s candid charm.

“Kylo,” he said slowly, “may I ask you something?”

Ren leaned his head back to better see Hux’s face. “Anything, Doc. What is it?”

Hux choose his words with care. “If I told you that there was a way—a ritual—to bind you to this plane indefinitely, would you want to do that?”

“You mean keep me here as a ghost?” he asked.

“I believe so,” Hux replied. “I don’t have all the details, but it would prevent you from passing on to...whatever comes next. You’d be stuck in limbo. Stuck with me.” He wet his lips, hesitating. “You see, it’s a bond not just to the physical world, but to _me_. At least that’s what Maz said. We would be completely tied together.”

Lines crinkled between Ren’s eyebrows, and he didn’t meet Hux’s eyes. “That’s...a lot to think about. I mean, this is a weird life. If you can call it that.”

“Of course,” Hux said quickly, backpedaling. “You would eventually want to move on. I understand.”

“I didn’t say that.” Ren was looking at him now. “But, could I maybe have a little time to think on it? I mean, if this is something _you’re_ even considering.” He blinked twice in quick succession, betraying his nerves. “Are you?”

Hux curled his fingers around the arm of the sofa. “I’m not certain. There would be no going back from it, and if we grew tired of each other, we could never part. And we’ve only known each other for a short time.”

“I hear you,” Ren said. “I don’t know how long I’m going to hold on to my spot here on this plane, but there’s no rush for now. Let’s just think about what we’ve got here and cross the ‘indefinitely’ bridge when we get there.”

“A very sound plan,” said Hux, relieved. He wanted, maybe, to be say more, but a clatter from outside the window startled them both. “What was that?” he asked.

“Stay here,” said Ren, sitting up. “I’ll go check.”

Hux remained on the sofa, tense, as Ren passed through the living room wall and outside. It wasn’t windy enough to bring a branch down from one of the surrounding trees, but it was possible a weak one had just given way. He couldn’t think of anything else it could be, but the sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Something wasn’t right.

Ren returned a good five minutes later, shaking his head. “Nothing out there that I could see. Maybe just creaks in an old house?”

“Perhaps,” said Hux, though he doubted it. Ren came back over to him, clearly reading his uncertainty. But Hux told him: “It’s late and I’m imagining things. I should go to bed.”

“Okay,” Ren said. “I’ll wait for you at my place?”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

After Ren had gone, Hux double checked that the front and back doors were locked before he made his way up the stairs and to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was still strangely put off, but he crawled into bed with the amulet around his neck and, closing his eyes, sought Ren in the spirit realm.

Hux appeared now right outside the little apartment, without having to explore limbo at all. Ren was inside with an uncapped beer—Hux was getting a taste for it—and a kiss at the ready. The cold bottle touched between Hux’s shoulder blades as Ren held him close, and Hux shivered.

“You need more clothes, Doc?” Ren asked. Pushing the beer into Hux’s hands, he pulled the black sweatshirt he wore over his head and held it out. Hux exchanged it for the beer and tugged it on. It was warm from Ren’s body, smelled of his deodorant, and was far too large for Hux, swallowing him up. “You want to pick up the movie where we left off?” said Ren.

Hux took a swig of the beer. “Not really,” he replied.

Ren stroked Hux’s hair and down to his neck. “Good, because I don’t, either.”

Setting his beer down on the kitchen bar, Hux put his arms around Ren’s shoulders. This kiss was fervent and powerful, sweeping them both up. Hux allowed Ren to back him toward the bed and sit him down on its edge while he knelt over his lap. Ren was too big for it, but Hux didn’t mind being made to feel small—not by Ren, anyway.

The sweatshirt was the first thing to be tossed away, followed by Hux’s t-shirt. Hux had to slide back onto the bed to lift his hips and shimmy out of his pajama pants, but Ren helped him along, pulling them with gentle hands down his thighs and over his knees and calves. Seeing as he hadn’t worn any underwear, it was easy enough for Ren to swoop down and take his cock in his mouth, sucking him until he was hard. Hux took hold of Ren’s hair, as he had wanted to earlier on the sofa, and pulled in the way Ren liked.

Ren brought him off, taking all that he gave him, and then put Hux on his back and took him fervently, Hux’s legs propped up on his shoulders. When they were finished, they showered quickly and lay back down on the bed, naked under the covers. Ren lay his head on Hux’s chest while Hux finger-combed his wet hair.

“You going to stay all night?” Ren asked. “Sleep with me?”

“I’ve never tried sleeping in this realm before,” Hux replied. “I might just wake back up in my body. Or perhaps it will be even more restful: double sleeping.”

Ren laughed lightly. “I’ll stay up with you, then. Want me to read?”

Hux glanced at the book lying open and bent spine-up on the nightstand. It was a different one than they had been reading in the physical world. “Did you say something about Dante’s _Divine Comedy_ once? I’ve never read it.”

“That’s a good one,” said Ren as he rolled up onto his elbow. “Let me go find it.” He was about to give Hux a parting kiss, but Hux thrashed uncontrollably away, crying out. His body convulsed with a sudden, shocking twist. It wasn’t painful, but it was like being tugged by a string around his heart, drawing him elsewhere.

“What’s wrong?” Ren said, an edge of panic to his voice.

“I don’t know,” Hux managed around another fit of tense muscles. It was as if he was being yanked out of limbo. “I don’t—”

The force of the next convulsion pitched him out of the apartment completely and startled him into wakefulness on his own plane. A quick glance around placed him on the floor of the dark dining room. He couldn’t move his hands or his feet. With a shudder of terror, he saw his ankles were bound with rope.

“So, you’re awake,” said a craggy voice from a few paces away. “I wondered if I would have to slap you or shake you. I carried you all the way down here without so much as a peep. That’s a dangerously deep sleep, Dr. Hux.”

Hux knew that voice: Snoke.

“What are you doing in my house?” he demanded, though the menace fell flat.

Snoke chuckled coldly. “What do you think? I can’t just let you go around crying to the FBI task force that you’ve found your murderer.” His tone was blade-sharp. “They didn’t believe you, of course, did they? There was no evidence. I made sure of that. But you...you pieced it together. How?”

Hux struggled against the ropes chafing his wrists, but he knew he wasn’t getting out of them. “It’s not so hard to see when you look at your first murders: the girls you killed in Charlotte and pinned on Ben Solo.” His eyes were adjusting some to the murky darkness and he could see Snoke crouched a few feet from him. He was scowling.

“Clever of you to connect me to that,” Snoke said. “You had to have known about the case before you joined the task force to even dig it up. But those were such rough attempts. I’ve gotten so much better since then. But it _was_ satisfying to see that halfwit Solo thrown in prison for what _I_ did.”

“You might as well have murdered him yourself,” Hux spat. “He died needlessly.”

Snoke shrugged. “It made no difference to me whether he died of old age in a cell or any other way, as long as everyone believed he did it. And they did. What a lovely thing to know.”

“You’re a bastard,” said Hux. “He didn’t deserve it. He’s a good man.”

Moving closer, Snoke hovered over him, holding a deadly sharp knife in his left hand. “‘Is?’ What do you mean by that?”

“This, you son-of-a-bitch.”

Snoke was hauled bodily backward, the knife clattering to the ground. Ren—corporeal—held him in a chokehold, using his size to wrestle him to the ground. Snoke sputtered and cursed as he scrabbled at Ren’s arm, scratching and drawing blood. While they struggled, Hux rolled over to where the knife had fallen and, grabbing hold of it, desperately sawed at the ropes around his wrists.

Snoke backed up, slamming Ren against the wall hard enough to make the house shake. Ren grunted, but didn’t let him go. They thrashed back and forth, knocking the dining table askew and cracking one of the chairs. All the while, Hux could feel the ropes giving way, until the knife’s edge severed them completely. He drew his hands apart and threw the ropes aside, cutting quickly through those on his feet. When he could get up, he charged toward Snoke and Ren. With a howl of fury and terror, he drove the knife into Snoke’s thigh, and Snoke screamed, collapsing to the floor, still in Ren’s arms. A mix of pain and Ren’s hold on him had him falling unconscious.

“Get some of that rope,” Ren said sharply. “Help me tie him up. You have any duct tape?”

“In the kitchen,” Hux replied as he fumbled to wrap some of extra rope Snoke had brought around his feet and hands. With that done, he went to get the tape, and secured that over the rope, just in case. Last of all, he put tape over Snoke’s mouth.

Leaving him on the floor, Ren gathered Hux to him and kissed the crown of his head. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Hux. “But you are.” He looked at Ren’s scratched arm, where blood was smeared. “I need to patch you up.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Ren said. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes anyway.” He touched Hux’s face. “You know I don’t stay like this long.”

Hux leaned into his fingers, laying his own over them to hold Ren to him. “You saved my life, Kylo.”

Ren’s eyes were soft, the curve of his mouth just bowing up. “Of course. I love you, Hux.”

Hux shut his eyes against the welling tears, burying his face in Ren’s shoulder. Ren stroked his back, soothing. Hux shook with lingering adrenaline, but he had done it: he had found Snoke out and heard his confession. With hope, he could bring that to the police and see Snoke answer for what he had done—and to clear Ren’s name at long last.

When Hux had calmed some, he said, “I have to call the police.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Ren said darkly, tapping Snoke’s legs with the toe of his boot.

Hux’s phone was upstairs in his bedroom, and he ran there, dialing 911 as fast as his fingers could fly. The dispatcher picked up and he ask for the police. She told him they would come, but to stay on the line with her until they arrived.

He did, but he returned to the dining room, where Ren was sitting watching Snoke for any signs of waking. The knife stuck up from his leg, and a small pool of blood was forming on the front of his trousers, but not enough to be life-threatening.

“I can’t stay much longer, Doc,” Ren said after a moment. “I’m already starting to slip.”

Hux covered his phone so the operator couldn’t hear him and said, “Go. I’ll be safe here.”

Ren got to his feet and pulled Hux in for a hug. “Can you come to me when this is all over?”

“I’ll try.” Hux kissed him briefly before he faded away.

Sirens and blue and red lights came flashing down the driveway only minutes later, and Hux told the operator. He hung up and went to greet them at the door. The lock was busted out, clearly how Snoke had gotten in. Four uniformed officers came inside with guns drawn and Hux watched while they assessed the scene.

“You did a damn good job of taking him out of commission, Mr. Hux,” said one of the officers. “There’s an ambulance behind us to pick him up. Are you okay?”

Hux nodded. “Shaken up, but all right.”

“Well,” said another officer—a woman, “we’ll take you down to the station with us. You need to make a statement and there’s no way we’re leaving you here alone. There will be a counselor to see you when we get there.”

Hux agreed and allowed the officer to see him safely into the front passenger seat of her cruiser. It wasn’t long before the ambulance arrived and Snoke was carted away and the officers were on the road toward their station.

There, Hux was given water and coffee and made to sit in a small office with a trauma counselor named Deborah. A Detective Allen was present, too, to take his statement about the incident. Hux had to fabricate the details of how a man of his size had managed to subdue a stronger, larger Snoke, but they seemed to accept the story. Deborah walked Hux through the process of assessing his experience and gave him her card for future appointments. He wouldn’t be proud enough to turn them down; what he had been through, while still too fresh to truly set in, would eventually be something he needed to address with a professional.

“We don’t feel comfortable sending you home tonight, Dr. Hux,” said Detective Allen after his statement had been taken. “We don’t have hotel here in town, so we can either take you to Carrboro or you can stay in mine and my wife’s guest room. The house is five minutes from here.”

Hux had seen enough of sterile hotel rooms during his stint with the task force, so he took the bed at the detective’s house. His wife welcomed him inside and offered him chamomile tea and something to eat, but he declined both, saying simply that he wanted to go to bed.

“Absolutely,” she said as she ushered him into a small third bedroom. “There’s a bathroom to the right with a new toothbrush and towels. If you need anything at all, I’m just down the hall. Sleep well, Dr. Hux.”

Hux did go into the bathroom to take a shower, this one so different from the one he had taken with Ren that morning. It seemed eons ago, now. He had no pajamas to wear, so he crawled into bed naked. Ren would have to accept that when he arrived at his apartment. He had clothes Hux could wear, after all. With eyes closed and the medium’s amulet resting against his chest, he went into limbo.

Ren threw open the door when Hux knocked and, seeing his nakedness, bustled him into the apartment and wrapped a blanket around him. “You’re okay,” he murmured as he held Hux tightly. “You’re somewhere safe?”

“A kind detective's house, yes,” Hux replied. “Under the guard of his wife.”

“Can I get you anything?”

Hux shook his head slowly. “Just sit with me for a while. Please.”

The sat together on the bed, Hux swaddled in the blanket and Ren beside him with an arm around his shoulders. For the first few minutes, they didn’t speak—only keeping company with each other and taking comfort in that.

When, finally, Hux found his voice, he asked, “Did you mean it?”

Ren didn’t have to ask what. “I did,” he replied. “I do.” He brought his forehead to Hux’s, and Hux could feel his breath as he said, “I know that’s probably too much for you right now, but—”

 Hux laid a hand on his chest, right over his quiet heart. “It’s not. I have trouble with saying those words myself. I never heard them as a boy. But I feel strongly for you, Kylo, and if you’ll be patient with me, I think I will be able to say them in the future.” He nuzzled Ren’s long nose and kissed him lightly.

“I can wait,” Ren said. “I’m not always a patient man, but for you I can wait.”

Hux slid a hand out from under his cocoon of blankets and took Ren’s. “Does that mean you want to stay? To be bound here?”

Ren gave him a rueful half-smile. “It’s not even a question, Hux. If you want me around, I’ll always be here for you.”

Rationally, Hux knew it was too soon and too rash to commit himself to the rest of his days with Ren, but Maz had said he should, for once, listen to his intuition and his heart. He wasn’t slow in seeing this time that it told him they should be together.

“I do want you,” Hux said. “You are so dear to me.”

 The kiss Ren gave him was chaste, but filled with the promise of a shared future, strange as their circumstances might be.

“Will you read to me a little?” Hux asked quietly when they parted.

Ren stroked his hair. “Anything you want, Doc.”

 

* * *

 

Hux’s breakfast at Mrs. Allen’s the next morning was interrupted by the arrival of Special Agents Phasma and Poe. They had heard the news about the attack and had come up from Raleigh straight away. They accepted cups of tea from Mrs. Allen and joined Hux at the table while he sedately finished his eggs and bacon.

“Well,” said Phasma, “I guess this is the part where I tell you how wrong we all were and how you solved the case for us.”

Hux shook his head. “I have no intention of holding it over your head. While I may have found Snoke, I nearly got myself killed. That is what your policies about vigilante consultants are there to prevent, are they not?”

“That’s right,” she said, “and I still stand by them. You _did_ bring Snoke to your own door. But...we should have listened to you about him. You make the profiles; you have a keen eye for suspects.”

“Has he confessed?” Hux asked as he pushed eggs onto his fork with a blunt table knife.

“To everything,” Poe replied. “He’ll probably change his story and plead not guilty when it actually comes to trial, but he’s too proud of it all to hide it.” He spat: “Bastard.”

“That’s all that matters, then,” said Hux. Wryly, like some kind of comic book hero, he added, “We caught the perpetrator and the streets of Raleigh are safe again. I do hope the Bureau has some kind of special commendation for you two.”

Phasma took a sip of her tea, making a face. Despite coming from England, she hated most teas; coffee ran in her bloodstream. “They’ve got one for you, too. More regular consulting work, if you’re interested.”

Hux did his best to suppress a grin. “Is that so? Well, I shall certainly consider it if I have time around my book.”

“Of course, you’ll need some time off,” said Poe. “You’ve just been through hell. But if you want the jobs, we’ll make sure to send them your way.”

“Thank you,” Hux said. “I appreciate that.” He cut a piece of bacon and chewed it slowly while both of them averted their eyes. “So, are you going to be returning to Washington soon?”

“We’ve got things to wrap up here before we can go,” said Phasma. “I figure another week. And no doubt we’ll be back for the trial, whenever that happens.”

“Justice is anything but swift these days,” Poe grumbled.

“Then you’ll have to stop by the house,” Hux said. “I need to have a door and lock replaced, but other than that the place is mostly in order.”

Poe and Phasma exchanged a worried glance. “You want to go back to your house alone right now?”

Hux set down his fork and knife deliberately. “I’m not alone,” he said. “I have a friend coming to stay with me.”

“You have other friends?” Phasma asked, though she winced when she realized how it sounded.

Hux wasn’t offended. “I do. He’s coming from Charlotte to stay for...a while. I won’t be on my own, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Phasma narrowed her eyes at him. “Somebody from Charlotte. Nobody from school, then.”

“No,” Hux said, and he didn’t elaborate.

They left about twenty minutes later, both shaking Hux’s hand and telling him they would be in touch. He stood with Mrs. Allen in the doorway as they drove off.

“Feds,” Mrs. Allen muttered.

Hux laughed. “Yes, they can be rather trying.”

After the meal, he accepted a hug and a casserole from her, which she said was to ease the burden of cooking on him and his friend from Charlotte. Detective Allen drove him back to his house, where a couple of workmen were already hanging a new front door. Hux hadn’t chosen it, but it turned out to be just the same as the one that had been broken.

“When’s your friend getting here?” Allen asked.

“In an hour or two,” Hux replied. “I’ll be fine until then. Thank you very much for your help, and if there’s anything else I can do in the case, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“We will, Dr. Hux. Stay safe.”

Hux watched the hanging of the door and stayed to hear that an anonymous benefactor—the receipt said FBI—had paid for the repairs and he wasn’t responsible for them. He thanked all of them and sent them on their way. He was pleased to find Ren—in his spectral form—standing in the living room when he returned.

“‘Friend from Charlotte,’ huh?” he said. “What are you going to tell them if they come for dinner and there’s no friend to be found?”

Hux rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Kylo. I’ll find some way to put them off, if I have to.”

Ren nodded. “You look beat. Why don’t you at least go change your clothes?”

“Will you come join me in the shower?” Hux asked, one eyebrow cocked.

Ren grinned. “Frisky even after all that’s happened? I’m okay with that, Doc.” He approached, but Hux put up a hand.

“Wait. I need to make a call first.”

Maz picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Armitage. Thought I just might be hearing from you today. Heard on the news they caught your murderer. Well done, dear.”

“Thank you,” he said, “but there’s a bit of a story around it.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Tell me when I get there.”

Hux chuckled, knowing he shouldn’t have been surprised at her. “How did you know I wanted you to come?”

“I had an inkling,” she replied. “I’ll bring the things for the binding, then, shall I?”

From across from him, Hux saw Ren’s face light up. Hux told her, “Yes. Bring everything you need.”

The August dusk was humid, the hiss of high summer leaves accompanying the silence of Maz’s hybrid as it rolled up next to Hux’s Civic in the driveway that evening. Hux and Ren were standing out on the front stoop, waiting, but when Maz stepped out, Hux went to help her carry the boxes of objects and jars and oils she would use to bind Ren.

“I hope it’s some kind of BDSM rope thing,” Ren had joked earlier in the day. “Not that I want a small woman in her sixties to tie me up and whip me, but you’d have to laugh if she actually had to _bind_ me.”

Hux had just shaken his head.

 Maz instructed him to put the boxes in the living room, where she would have space to work. “And I’ll need to draw a sigil on the floor and leave it, so I expect you’ll want to cover it with the rug. Unless you want to explain it to all your guests.”

“I’d rather not, no,” said Hux. Dutifully, he moved the sofa and rolled up the heavy carpet that lay on the floor. He tried not to wince as he saw Maz mixing a bowl full of what appeared to be black paint; that wouldn’t be coming off the hardwood easily, and he had hoped to sell the house for a decent price someday—when he was too old and potentially infirm to live alone anymore.

 “Maz,” he said while she unpacked the boxes, “if this binding is permanent, what will happen to Kylo when I eventually die?”

She scoffed. “Such doom and gloom already, Armitage. You’re not even thirty-five.” Adjusting her thick glasses, she sighed. “But I suppose it is a practical concern. According to the books, he’ll be bound to you as long as you live. What happens after is beyond them.”

“But he’ll always stay as he is now?” Hux asked with no small measure of melancholy. “I’ll grow old, but he’ll always be...this.”

Maz paused to look at him. “That’s right.”

Hux hated to think that Ren, ever youthful, would watch him lose his looks and, maybe, his sense as he aged. Would he grow to resent a bond to an old man?

“I can hear you worrying from over here,” Ren said. He came across the room in silent, ghostly steps and took Hux by the shoulders. “So, you’re going to get wrinkly and go gray. What does that matter? I bet you’ll look great with gray-red hair.”

“Don’t kid, Kylo,” Hux scolded. “I’m not going to be beautiful forever, like you.”

Ren batted his eyelashes in faux coquettishness. “Oh, tell me I’m pretty again, Dr. Hux.” When Hux scowled, he sobered. “Look, have you considered that I’m not going to care about crow’s feet and liver spots, but more about you dying and moving on without me?”

Hux looked into his brown eyes, searching for the truth. It seemed it was there, plainly. “It’s going to be difficult, in the end.”

“Sure,” said Ren, “but what relationship that’s worth anything doesn’t take a little hard work?”

“Are you positive that you want this?” Hux said softly. “I don’t want to be a burden on you someday.”

Ren nodded. “I’m sure. I’ll miss the sex when you’re in your seventies, but we’ll make a video or two.”

“Kylo!”

Laughing, Ren kissed Hux’s brow. “Relax, Hux. I’m ready for this. I want to be with you.”

Hux sighed and leaned into the touch he couldn’t feel.

“Are you done hashing it out over there?” Maz called. She was kneeling on the floor by one of the boxes, holding some sort of idol.

“We are,” Hux replied, turning.

“Good. I still have to tell you what we’re actually doing.” She set the idol aside and produced a grimoire. “There are two spells. We are binding him twice today: first to you, as a kind of joining of spirits, and then to this house, so he might channel its energy and use it to manifest when he’s here.”

Hux paused, not quite comprehending. “You mean...physically manifest?”

“Mmhm. If the spell works the way I think it will, he should, for all intents and purposes, have a body when he is in the house. That’s why the sigil has to stay here.” She set down the grimoire and poured oil from a small jar into the bowl of paint she had been preparing. “When you leave, though, he can still travel with you, just in his spirit form.”

“Will other people be able to see me when I’m here?” Ren asked.

Hux relayed the question to Maz, who replied, “That’s what the books say.” She addressed the air around her: “So, I’ll be able to see you in a few minutes, Kylo Ren.” Looking back at Hux, she added with a smile, “And I suppose it means you can introduce your boyfriend to your friends.”

“I’ll be damned,” said Ren. “It’s kind of like...well, getting a second life. Even if it’s only when I’m at home.”

Hux warmed at the phrasing: _at home_. This house was no longer just Hux’s, but also Ren’s.

“Unfortunately, my closest friend is Phasma,” said Hux, “who would immediately recognize him as a dead man.”

Ren’s expression hardened. “Right,” he muttered.

“Ah, what difference does that make?” said Maz. “If you trust her, tell her the truth. You have to admit, Armitage, it’s a very romantic story. Love after death and all that.”

Hux found himself smiling, and saw that Ren was, too. “I suppose it is,” he said. “She’s going to think I’m mad if I’m honest about it, but”—he extended his hand ever-so-slightly toward Ren’s specter across the room—“it would be wonderful not to always have to hide him away.”

“Exactly,” Maz said, matter-of-fact. “It’ll make the both of you happier, I should think. Eh, Kylo Ren?”

“Tell her ‘yes,’” Ren said to Hux, and Hux did.

She sniffed haughtily. “Good. Now come here, Armitage, and untangle this rope.”

Ren’s belly laugh echoed around the room. “I _knew it_.”

To his disappointment, the rope was not for him, but for suspending a copper censer from the ceiling fan. Maz filled it with earthy incense and set it to burn. Purple smoke drifted up above it, hazy. Before she brandished the paint, Maz chalked the “sigil” on the floor. It was a mess of sickle moons and radiating lines somehow contained by the perfect double circle. The whole thing took almost a half hour to draw, which Hux just watched wordlessly.

“Here, boy,” Maz said when she stood up and dusted the chalk from her weathered hands. She offered him the bowl of paint. “You have to do this part.”

Hux took the bowl and tested the viscosity of the paint using what passed for a brush. Clearly made by hand, it was nothing but horse hair tied around a stick with a leather thong. Taking it gingerly, Hux knelt at the edge of the circles. “Where do I start?”

“Where your intuition dictates,” Maz replied. “Maybe ask.”

Hux turned his eyes up. “What do you think, Kylo?”

Ren came to stand next to him, rubbing his knuckles under his chin. He pointed to the point of the crescent moon. “There.”

“Any particular reason?” Hux asked.

Ren shrugged. “Not really. Does everything in this have to be mystical, meaningful witchy hoodoo?”

Hux barked a laugh. “No, Kylo, I don’t think it does.”

He picked up the brush and touched it to the chalk outline, beginning to spread the dark paint over the white. They blended to make the overall image a night-mist gray. The brush was an imperfect instrument and left some of the paint streaked, but Maz told him the imperfections were meant to be there, so he didn’t go over them again to smooth them out. When he finished, he stood up to look over his work. Ren stood across from him, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Looks pretty good, Doc,” he said. “So, uh, what’s next?”

As if Maz had heard him, she took the bowl from Hux and said, “Kylo Ren, come and stand here, in this.”

Like a shy little boy, Ren shuffled into the circle, stopping at its center. He let his arms fall to his sides, looking a bit lost. “I hope this doesn’t hurt,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s going to hurt _you_ ,” said Hux as Maz handed him a long-bladed knife.

Maz said, “It’s just a prick of your finger, Armitage; don’t be afraid.” She demonstrated how he was to twist the blade just enough to puncture his fingertip and let a few drops of blood fall into the center of the sigil. It stung a little, but only for a moment. Maz produced a blue handkerchief and told him to hold it to the finger until the bleeding stopped.

She picked up her grimoire again and began to chant in some language Hux couldn’t make out. Both he and Ren watched her as she worked, occasionally swaying side-to-side or gesturing over the sigil—through Ren.

“Hold out your right hand, Kylo Ren,” she bid him. “Armitage, take it and hold tight.”

Hux expected to pass through him, too, but when their palms met, Ren was solid. Slowly, from the hand and up his arm, he began to grow more opaque, until he looked just as corporeal as Hux and Maz. Hux could see him breathing.

“Go into the circle,” Maz said to Hux. “You don’t have to embrace him, but...you can.” She flashed her teeth. “But I can see you, so behave yourselves.”

Despite himself, Hux laughed lightly. Ren held out his other hand to bring Hux into his arms. Hux went and they wrapped each other up, heads bent together as Maz resumed her chanting. Ren still had no heartbeat, but he was there and real and so dear.

Maz sang a long, mournful note before snapping the grimoire shut and saying, “There. You can come out now.”

Ren’s steps were tentative, but he left the circle behind and retained his solidity. “Holy shit,” he said. “It worked.” To Maz: “I can go anywhere in the house like this?”

“Only inside,” she replied. “Go out the front or back doors and you’re just a spirit again.”

“I can live with that,” he said. He took both of Hux’s hands in his and kissed one and then the other. “Living, I guess, is a relative term.”

“What about the spirit bond?” Hux asked. “What else do we have to do?”

Maz was already beginning to tuck her supplies away. “Nothing. There wasn’t anything more I could do. You had already made the bond yourselves.”

Ren shot her a look. “We did? How?”

“Not everything has to be mystical, meaningful witchy hoodoo,” Maz said, dryly. “Sometimes two souls just find each other and fuse.” She walked over to Ren—she stood nearly a foot shorter than him—and patted his forearm. “You have a strong will, and you chose to stay with him. That’s all that was needed.”

“Oh,” Ren said. “That’s…”

“Love,” said Maz. “It’s love, Kylo Ren.” She tapped Hux admonishingly in the center of the chest. “And you know it, too, boy. Don’t be foolish and cold, like your father. You’ve got a nice young man here; don’t neglect him.”

Hux smiled at her and then at Ren. “I promise I won’t. After all, I do love him.”

Ren grabbed both him and Maz and pulled them into a hug, though the height difference made things a bit cumbersome. To Hux, he said, “You saved me, Doc. Sprung me from prison and cleared my name and now we’ve got _this_ : my second chance.”

For lack of a reply that wasn’t choked and, to Hux’s embarrassment, tearful, he gave Ren a long kiss.

“All right,” said Maz, “if that’s what you’re going to do, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” Hux said. “We’ll help you clean this all up, and then come and have a cup of tea. It’s the least we can do.”

She pursed her lips, but agreed. “Kylo Ren, you get the censer down. Armitage, bring that rug.”

When the living room was set to rights again, and the carpet was covering the now-permanent sigil, Hux prepared tea while Maz peppered Ren with questions about his childhood and his family.

“You should invite your mother and father here,” she said to him while he leaned against the counter next to Hux, seemingly unwilling to put distance between them when they could touch. “They can see and hug you just like Armitage can. There’s no reason why you can’t tell them the truth. It might be hard to swallow, in its way, but at least they’ll have their son back.”

Ren fiddled with the ends of his hair, avoiding a reply. Hux poured tea in silence; this was completely Ren’s decision. It could be equal parts wonderful and heartbreaking for Leia Organa and Han Solo. They did have Ren again, but he wasn’t alive and he couldn’t leave the house.

“They might take it badly,” he said, slow and thoughtful.

Maz hummed. “Maybe, maybe not. But wouldn’t you want to see them, now that you can?”

He chewed his lower lip, but then said, “Might as well, you know? We weren’t altogether that close when I was alive, even though I worked with my dad. This could be another go at that.” Hux handed him a cup of tea, and he asked, “You think it’s a good idea?”

“If you do,” said Hux, “then I’ll be happy to contact them and ask them to come.”

“What would you tell them to get them here?” Ren said. “‘Hi, your son’s ghost wants to visit with you.’ I definitely can’t call them. They’d shit their pants and call in an exorcist.”

Hux sipped at his tea. “They should come and see your grave, shouldn’t they?”

Ren scoffed. “A patch of grass with a cheap headstone isn’t anything to see, but if they want to...it might be a decent excuse.”

“I can say I was your friend in life and that you asked for this,” Hux said. “A little white lie.”

“I guess that would work,” said Ren, “but”—he laid a hand on Hux’s arm, squeezing—“mind if we wait a little? I’d kind of like you to myself for a while.”

Hux replied, “Of course. Perhaps in a month or so I can get in touch with them.”

They went to the dining room and sat to drink their tea. One of the chairs was still broken, but Hux would make arrangements to have it repaired and refinished. For now, it was stashed in a corner, forlornly crooked, the back snapped down the middle.

“It’s kind of nice to eat something with the living people,” Ren said as he reached for a cookie Hux had brought out. He glanced at Maz. “All my plumbing works, right?”

She chuckled. “Yes, it does, though you don’t require food. It’s just one of those things you can do for fun.”

He grabbed another cookie. “Perfect.”

Maz left thirty minutes later, after Hux had packed the boxes into her car. Ren stayed at the threshold of the front door; if he stepped out, his physical body would be no more. Maz gave him a wave as she drove off.

As soon as she was gone and the door was closed again, Ren swept Hux up into his arms and swung him from side to side while Hux tried to get him to put him down.

“No way, Doc,” he said, “I’m carrying you all the way up to bed.”

Resigned, Hux hitched his legs up around Ren’s waist and allowed himself to be borne up the stairs and into his bedroom, where Ren deposited him on the bed and immediately began to pull his own clothes off. Too amused to resist, Hux lifted his shirt over his head and did his best to look seductive as he shimmied out of his trousers.

Ren sprang onto the bed and pinned him down, his hands planted on either side of Hux’s head. He kissed him deep and long, his hair hanging down and tickling Hux’s cheeks. “I want you inside me,” he said when he had paused for breath. “Filling me up.”

Hux hummed, already sex-drunk and hazy from Ren’s mouth. “Of course, Kylo,” he said.

Ren, growling, wrapped Hux up in his arms and flopped onto his back, hauling Hux on top of him. He splayed his legs wide in invitation and Hux came to a comfortable place between them. They kissed again, Hux sucking the marks he wanted to see on Ren’s neck. That sudden possessiveness was unexpected, but now that Hux knew he had Ren’s heart and his physical body, he was protective of it.

Ren asked between kisses, “You have something we can use for this?”

Hux went to the bedside table and pulled out the drawer, blindly seeking the bottle of lubricant he kept there for the toys he had abashedly bought online to keep him busy when he was without a boyfriend. He realized, though, as he fumbled around, that he had no condoms.

“I have this,” he said, holding up the bottle, “but nothing else, I’m afraid.”

Ren blinked, holding Hux by the narrow hips. “Well, this body is brand new, so I figure it isn’t necessary. And you’re clean, yeah?”

“I was tested at my last physical,” Hux replied. “And I haven’t been with anyone since.” Lower: “Except you.”

“Then we’re good,” said Ren. He ran his fingertips from the base of Hux’s cock back to the tip. “Where do you want me?”

Hux considered for a moment, but then rolled off of him, rising up onto his knees. He told him: “Sit up. On your knees facing me.”

Ren, looking somewhat bewildered, obeyed Hux’s instructions and knelt on the bed in front of him. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Just something different,” Hux replied. He tapped his shoulders. “Arms here.”

Ren rested his forearms in the appointed places, weaving his fingers together behind Hux’s head. Hux readjusted himself so that he could part his legs around Ren’s knees. It brought him just low enough to do what he wanted. Ren eyed him curiously while he poured a generous helping of lubricant onto his fingers. Hux rubbed them together to spread it before reaching under Ren’s cock and testicles, between his legs, to his entrance. Comprehension dawning, Ren parted his knees a little more to give Hux room to work. Hux trailed his wet fingers down Ren’s cleft before easing the first two inside him. Ren gave a little huff of satisfaction and leaned onto Hux’s shoulders.

Lubricant dripped down Hux’s hand as he slowly opened Ren up, spreading two fingers until he could add a third. Some of the liquid dripped onto Ren’s feet. His toes were curled and arches flexed.

“Kiss me,” Hux whispered as he pushed in up to the third knuckles.

Ren sloppily mouthed at his lips, breathing heavily. “Will you fuck me?” he asked. “Please. I need it.”

“Turn around,” said Hux. “Hold onto the headboard.”

With Ren’s back to him, Hux could see the slickness between his thighs from the lubricant and touch the gentle slope of his long spine. He kissed down it to the sacrum. Ren was trembling some when Hux took hold of his hip with one hand and guided his cock into him with the other. The sounds Ren made had Hux clinging to him, desperate to hear more of that hunger and want.

Ren’s hands were curled around the top of the headboard as he braced himself for Hux’s thrusts. But Hux started slowly, drawing in and out with excruciating languidness. He held Ren’s left hip, but he put his right around his chin and slipped a finger into his mouth. Ren rolled his tongue around it, sucking.

Hux spoke in his ear, growing desperate for the assurance in his desire: “Are you mine, Kylo?”

“Yes,” he replied around Hux’s fingers.

Hux pressed on: “Will you always be?”

Ren pulled Hux’s hand from his mouth and kissed the wet fingers, the dry palm. “Yes. Hux, _yes_.”

He pushed his ass back against Hux, bringing him as deep as he could. Hux groaned and bit down on the join of his shoulder and neck. He sped his pace then, slamming the headboard against the wall. They were lucky there were no neighbors to hear that or their cries and pleas for more, harder, _Hux_ , _Kylo_.

When Hux came, it stole his breath and had him wrapping himself around Ren’s chest just to hold steady. Ren let him ride the orgasm out, until he could think again.

“Lie down,” Hux said as he pulled out.

Ren got onto his back, chest and face pink with exertion. He poured lubricant over Ren’s cock and straddled him. He could do this without prep as long as he was relaxed enough. Having come already, he was. He eased himself down on Ren, taking all of him inside. Ren gripped his skinny thighs.

“I am so lucky,” he murmured. “Don’t know what force kept me here with you, but I’ll always be grateful.”

Hux put his hands on Ren’s broad chest and said, “It was your own doing, Kylo. You chose to stay and now you always will.”

Ren closed his eyes and shuddered. “Love you, Hux,” he said.

Hux leaned down and kissed his mouth. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

**Two Months Later**

 

“This is it,” Hux said as he led Leia Organa in through the front door. He was carrying her small suitcase, having picked her up the Raleigh-Durham airport forty minutes ago. She had flown in from Indiana, Ren’s childhood home.

“It’s really lovely,” she said, looking around with her eyes that were so much like Ren’s. She wore a tailored pair of cream-color trousers and a cashmere sweater. It was October, after all, and the weather in North Carolina was just starting to turn toward autumn.

From the living room came another voice: “Hi, Leia.”

Both she and Hux turned to see Han Solo coming into the entryway. He had driven from Charlotte that morning—only two and a half hours—but had chosen to stay at the house while Hux went to collect his ex-wife.

“Hello, Han,” she said. She went to him and opened her arms for a hug. “You still wear that same jacket.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well, you know me. I like your hair. Suits you.”

Hux let them their have their moment, tucking Leia’s suitcase into an alcove to be taken upstairs and into the guest room in a few minutes. He kept his eyes averted until they turned their attention to him again.

“Would you like to freshen up?” he asked Leia. “The bathroom is upstairs, though I’m afraid there’s only the one. Three bedrooms and one bath. Very unfortunate.”

“I’m all right,” she replied, “but I wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”

“Certainly,” said Hux. That would do nicely for a quiet few minutes to explain to them the unusual situation he and Ren were now in.

She and Han caught up some—a little stiltedly—while Hux made three cups of coffee. He brought them into the dining room on a tray with a small creamer and a bowl of sugar cubes. However, he discovered that both of them drank their coffee as black as he did.

“So, Dr. Hux,” Leia began, “you knew Ben while he was in prison?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. He set his coffee down. “I’m afraid it’s a rather odd story, our meeting. If you’ll bear with me, though, and keep an open mind, I’ll tell you all of it. You see, I’ve never told anyone this before…”

The recounting took about half an hour and by the time he was finished, Han and Leia were both agog.

“I know it sounds fantastic,” Hux was quick to say, “but if you want to see him, he’s here.”

Leia’s right hand rested on her breast, rising and falling as she breathed. “This is a very sick joke if you’re lying to us, Dr. Hux.”

Hux was prepared to counter her, but from behind him, he heard: “Don’t call my boyfriend a liar, Mom.”

“Ben?” Han asked, deep voice tremulous.

Ren set his hands on Hux’s shoulders. “Hi, Dad. Been a while.”

Leia was on her feet in an instant, going to Ren and pulling him—despite him being quite a bit bigger than she was—into an embrace. “Oh, my God, Ben,” she breathed as she held him.

He stroked her back in soothing circles while she wept into his shirt. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s all right, Mom. I’m here.”

Han rose, too, joining them. Leia stepped back, wiping her cheeks, to let him get to Ren. He hugged him long and hard, thumping his back. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

“You, too, Dad,” Ren said.

When they finally stepped apart, Leia looked between him and Hux. “So, you’re...together?”

Ren took Hux’s hand. “We are. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Hux squeezed his fingers, and he smiled.

“Well, then,” she continued, approaching Hux, “I’d very much like a hug, Dr. Hux.” He went somewhat awkwardly to her and accepted the embrace. “If you’re Ben’s boyfriend, then you’re part of the family. Odd though it might be.”

“We could be weirder,” Han said, scratching his stubbled chin. Ren had some of his features, Hux had noticed, both of them handsome in their own ways.

Ren clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Not by much, Dad. Your kid’s a ghost and your son-in-law sees dead people.”

Han’s gray brows rose. “Son-in-law?”

Hux flushed a bright red. “There’s no way to make it legal,” he said, “but I’m not going anywhere. Might as well use the terminology.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Han said, grinning at Ren. “I never thought I’d see the day. This is a good thing, kid.”

Ren nodded. “It really is.”

“So,” Hux said, “I think I should leave you all to catch up some. I’ll just be in the garden.”

“No, no,” said Leia. “You’re family, now. You’re always welcome.” She winked, just like Ren did. “And we’re not chasing you out of your own house.”

Hux smiled and inclined his head. “Thank you.”

He took his seat back at the table, and they did, too, Ren joining them at his mother’s right. They were quiet for a beat, but then Ren said, “Can I tell you my side of the story of how we met?”

“Yes, please, Ben,” Leia replied.

Hux picked up his coffee mug, the ring he now wore on his left hand clinking against it, and prepared to listen to a ghost story.


End file.
